A Question of Ethics
by Salome Weil
Summary: Hermione is in a bad spot with her friendships. Draco torments her as usual, which sets off a horrible string of events. They eventually discover that they are each others' favorite fighting partner for surprising reasons. Some HHr. M for language,sex.sit
1. Chapter 1: Absolutely Not a Beginning

Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise; all characters and ideas belong to J.K.Rowling.

"Up awfully late, aren't you? And all by yourself, too- must be lonely, having your only friends angry at you, isn't it, _mudblood?" _The smirk that accompanied such words curled his lips naturally, as if he'd been smirking his entire life. Come to think of it, he had. He smirked a little more. The words had formed themselves on his lips the minute he'd seen _and recognized_ her. It was, again, a natural thing for him to insult the girl whenever he saw her. Insult her to her very core. He didn't always mean to pay her any attention but it was as if, the moment he saw her, he simply _had_ to be a nasty git. Not that he didn't enjoy it. Still, she was so far beneath him that paying her any attention at all was the wrong sort of insult. No, he really ought to be ignoring her. It would be so much more…_appropriate._ Ignoring her _would_ send exactly the right sort of message. Ignoring her would say, "You're so unimportant to me that I can't even be bothered to insult you for trying to be something you shouldn't, you piece of trash." But perhaps the reason the words came again tonight, as so often before, was that he was always just a little surprised whenever he saw her. Surprised at how studious she was, how pristine she kept herself in spite of that rat's nest of hair, how relaxed and happy she was when the Weasel was chatting her up, how her thick black lashes fell against her cheeks when she read…take tonight, for instance.

He had to remind himself that it had taken him more than a few seconds to realize the brown haired, slight form of a girl sitting at the study desk was her. The candlelight from the lantern on the table was glowing softly, casting a soft glow over her face. The shadows from the darkened library made her look much smaller than usual as she sat in the large wooden chair, her black robes squashed up underneath her. He could see her slim legs disappearing into the darkness under the table, making it look like her feet didn't touch the floor. Tucked away in her own little corner of the large, deserted library, she'd looked almost…_appealing._ If appealing was a word one could use to describe muggleborns. He smirked again, against his better nature. He had a better nature? Well, when looked at from the perspective that muggleborns _were_ foul and loathsome, he did. Fortunately, that was the view he went through life with. Better nature, indeed. At any rate, he supposed even a filthy mudblood could be attractive from time to time. They were still…humans, even if they were _impure._ He paused in his thoughts and noticed that the slight frame in front of him had tensed and stilled. He smirked again. _Got her where it hurts. Excellent._ He swung around to the other side of the desk and slid gracefully into the chair across from her. _Now I'll have some fun. If I can't force myself to ignore her, the next best thing is making her cry._

Hermione had been up all night for the past two evenings, trying to both get ahead on her schoolwork and ignore the gnawing, the devouring of her insides as she beat back tears again and again. She didn't want to cry over Ron and Harry. She was tired of crying over them. She was sick of crying over them. She was both, she freely admitted, and dampened down the urge to vomit once more. Her insides continued to gnaw. At what, she wasn't sure, but they were certainly finding footing somewhere. It was bad enough, wasn't it, that her best friends hated her, weren't speaking to her, but now half that school knew and everyone was laughing at her. _Laughing_ at _her. HER!!!_ The princess of Gryffindor, the girl who knew everything and was kind and lovely and, well, even if she was a little homely, people _liked._ Or, at least, they used to. Love her, that is. She clenched her quill in her hands and it snapped in two. She stared at it for a moment and then shook her fists up and down, jumping in her seat in silent frustration. She opened her mouth in a little scream and jumped some more. The desk rocked a bit and she stopped. She felt a little better after that, but not much. Gods, if this was how Harry felt all the time, she didn't blame him for being angsty and a _stupid git_. Like he was being to her right now. She sighed and plopped her head in her hands, staring down at the report before her. Like _Ron_ was being to her right now. She shook her head and sighed again.

Hermione knew, in her heart, that they would both snap out of it eventually. After all, they needed her and they both knew it. _Everyone _knew it. She had a sneaking suspicion that knowledge was part of the reason they were being such _prats_ right now. She was about to spend more time pondering this thought when she heard a voice from behind. The slightest of shadows crossed over her study table. She tensed and stilled completely, recognizing the voice. A grimace crossed her face. She suddenly felt very, very tired. Too tired. _Far too tired to deal with this…with __**him**_. She stayed still, her head still in her hands from a few moments before. She kept her breathing even. Maybe he'd think she was asleep? Or hadn't heard her? Or…_or maybe he's suddenly not almost evenly ranked with me and all those good grades he gets are actually the result of good, old-fashioned cheating. That's the only way he'd actually be stupid enough to think I didn't hear him._ She didn't hear anything from him for a moment, but the shadow remained so she knew he hadn't left. What was he doing? Getting ready to humiliate her? Rub her current situation in her face? _Probably a combination of both._ Ah, she knew Malfoy just as well as she knew Harry and Ron, in some ways. She felt a smirk form itself upon her lips just as she heard him move and felt his presence in front of her. Well, that was good, at any rate. She'd rather he be in front of her, facing her, than behind her, poised to strike. Not that he couldn't strike equally well from either position. She imagined him as a snake, as the snakey, slippery, slimy Slytherin he was. She imagined saying that and felt the smirk grow wider until it was a smile. Then she giggled. Almost immediately she pulled her head up and clapped both hands over her mouth, but found she couldn't stop giggling, for some reason. She tried, very hard, to stop but soon discovered that only led to snorting and her eyes grew wide. She looked around her, below her, anywhere but to the boy sitting in front of her.

Draco was quite taken aback by the turn of events at first. He hadn't expected her to start laughing. No, she was supposed to snap back at him with something nasty and mean; he'd return the favor and then she'd cry and run away. Or he'd leave her to cry by her lonesome. Yes, that would be much more fitting. Instead, here she was, smirking to begin with (he could see the telltale corners of her mouth edging up) and then _giggling_. Not just giggling, but _snorting_, she was laughing so hard. Or was it she was trying _not_ to laugh? He couldn't tell at first. He decided on the latter, without much conviction. When she didn't stop after the first few giggles, he began to grow annoyed, then angry. He had to say something. Here he was, intending to make the rest of her night perfectly miserable and she was _laughing_. He placed his hands on the table and leaned forward, noticing that she was looking everywhere except at him. Or perhaps it was _anywhere_ but him. For some reason the thought angered him more. He clenched his hands on the table, noting the way her eyes were still scrunched up at the corners and her hands were clapped so tightly over her mouth her fingers were digging into her cheeks. Her nostrils were flaring slightly just over the top of her hands as she breathed hard, trying to stop her laughter. He slowed his own breathing down some and forced himself to lean back in his seat, consciously relaxing his fingers' grip on the desk top. He stared at her coolly from behind grey eyes and waited. He'd wait all night, if he had too. _Why are these chairs so blasted uncomfortable?_ Well, maybe not _all _night. He really didn't want to have to wait that long for a little fun with someone so…_unworthy_, even, of his attentions. The thought struck him and he realized he was being stupid. He ought to get up and leave, right now. He tried to move, but found that his legs wouldn't carry him up and out of his chair. He wanted too badly to humiliate this girl who was sitting here, in front of him, after he'd _insulted_ her, and still had the nerve to laugh. He stayed in his seat and decided he could wait, after all, but that he definitely could not keep his mouth shut. Who knew when she would be done _giggling_?

"I'm so glad you can enjoy a good insult when you hear one, _mudblood_." Oh, no. He grimaced inwardly, noting how her eyes finally darted up to meet his. The scrunch lines around her eyes remained, but her breathing began to even out. Why had he said such a thing _twice_ in one night? Not that he needed much prompting to insult her, but twice? Surely he could come up with a few new insults.

Apparently, she was thinking the same thing, because she echoed the sentiment aloud. Well, actually, it came out as more of, "Mrmph mph mmmm mrmph mph mph?"

Hermione heard what she sounded like and suddenly began to giggle again. To her dismay, the boy in front of her leaned forward again, his hands creeping slowly towards her on the table, fingers twitching as if he wanted to strangle something. They looked like arthritic spiders. She laughed harder, her hands flew from her mouth and clasped themselves about her ribs in an effort to control her mounting hysterics.

"Damn it, _Granger_, what in hell has come over you? Can't you just take my bloody insults and cry already? I'm getting tired!" The words were out of his mouth before he had time to think. The girl in front of him began shrieking with laughter and she pointed at him.

"You!" she barely managed to get out, "y-you…," her voice trailed off into tears as her body continued to shake with silent and, it appeared, painful laughter.

Draco began to feel even more uncomfortable than the seat alone made him. He finally realized she was hysterical and began to debate with himself over his options. He could hit her, of course. That would be the most expedient way to not only get her to shut up but also hurt her feelings. It might possibly make her cry as well, which was his goal. Yes, hitting her was high on his list. He could also get up and walk away. Walking away was always good, too, wasn't it? It would at least get him out of the situation in an expedient manner, but if he simply left he would've already sat here, taking her laughter (her _insulting_ laughter) for about ten minutes. No, he finally decided, ten minutes was too much time to invest in the hunt without a return. He opted for hitting her.

Hermione barely noticed that Malfoy was getting up and walking back around the table to her, towards her, in fact. She thought he was just going to leave. After all, he'd said he was _tired._ The thought sent her into more peals of laughter so that she only registered the fact that Malfoy was _not_ leaving when he bodily lifted her from her seat and gave her a quick shake. She supposed she ought to be frightened, but tears were running down her cheeks, she was laughing so hard, that the scare lasted only a second before flying from her mind. The next fright, however, stayed with her.

Draco smirked at the state she was in. He wasn't genuinely concerned. After all, she'd probably been under a lot of stress lately. He figured her laughter didn't have so much to do with him than with the fact that her two best friends were shunning her and she was losing sleep. When he lifted her from her chair, the loss of sleep showed. His close up view of her face almost shocked him. It wasn't the pleasant surprise he normally got from seeing her, it was a slight twinge of…_pity?_ No, surely not. She looked awfully…_appealing?_ No, not that word again! Gods, he shook her a bit for confusing him with those great dark circles under her eyes and the way her slight frame looked thinner than usual. Not that he'd spent any great amount of time contemplating her frame. It was only normal, wasn't it, to notice things like that though after nearly six years of insults and aggressive staring contests.

He noticed she went a little quiet at the shaking but kept laughing. Well, time for plan A. Draco had to admit, he was rather excited about hitting her. Especially after that incident a couple of years ago. He knew he'd never forget the feeling of her fist in his face. He found that he was quite eager for her to experience the same from him. Lifting a hand from her arm, he brought it forward and struck her fully round in the face. His hand hit the skin of her cheek with a satisfying _smack!_ He worried for a moment that he heard a slight crunching noise, but ignored his concern instead to watch for the effect of his strike. He was right about his choice and was rewarded with a cessation of laughter and an increase in tears. She struggled against his grip as her sobs grew louder and he shook her a bit more, for good measure.

Hermione hadn't been prepared for the slap. It wasn't the kind of slap her mother gave her when she was hysterical. It was more of a wife-beater, Tennessee Williams backhand to the face and it _hurt._ Oh, _gods, _did it hurt. She suspected that if he hadn't had a hold of her when he hit her, it was quite probable she would've gone flying against the nearest bookshelf and slumped to the floor. She kind of wanted to do that now, just for theatrics' sake. A smile tried to curl her lips again and she winced in pain. She felt her mouth stop smiling and instead gape open as the tears that had previously been happy began pouring down her cheeks freely. She suddenly felt as if she could sleep for days and throw up the nothing that was in her stomach and probably twist Ron and Harry's heads right off their necks if they'd let her get that close. The anger she'd felt but tamped down so they'd be more likely to come running back to her sooner exploded out of her as she bawled. She struggled and felt Malfoy shake her more. Oh, it was _too much_. How could they do this to her? How could _Malfoy_ be so intent on making her life even more miserable than it already was? What a foul, horrific, stupid, stupid, stupid _git_. She finally looked up and spit in his face and he immediately dropped her from his grasp to wipe away the saliva before it could sully his face any longer.

Draco felt the spit land on the side of his nose and gagged. He hastily thrust Granger away and wiped at the saliva. Hermione watched him from behind teary eyes as she stumbled backwards and landed in her chair once more. She noted the distaste that curled his mouth downward into a frown as he touched his face gingerly with the edge of his sleeve. The sight was almost enough to make her laugh again…she thought better of it and lifted her hand to her cheek. When she brought it away to look at it, there was a mixture of tears, snot and blood on her fingertips. Her crying subsided into a series of quiet sighs at the sight and she bent over to rummage through her book bag. She was certain she had a handkerchief somewhere in its depths.

Draco watched her as she began to dig around through her book pack. He wondered, briefly, what she was looking for when he realized that he'd made her bleed. He smirked as he continued to wipe at his face. Yes, his efforts had paid off. He was finally having some fun. He swept over to the seat he'd vacated a minute before and resumed his previous position: hands on table, nonchalant tilt of the head, smooth curve of his back as he slumped gracefully back into the chair. Instead of watching her closely this time, however, he kept a look of complete disgust and revulsion on his face as he lifted first one hand, then the other, to inspect his fingernails with great show. Let her think he was bored of her. Who knew? Perhaps he could actually succeed in _ignoring_ her for once. Upon remembering how it felt to hit her, it might even be a _good_ thing to ignore her. He thought that perhaps he was lucky he'd been able to stop easily enough. Normally, when he hit people he enjoyed it and found it difficult to stop hitting them. Although, once he considered it, he realized he never had much cause for hitting girls. Granted, Pansy annoyed him often enough…but she was a pureblood, he'd never hit her if he could help it. So why had he stopped with this muggleborn, then? It was an interesting and, for the time being, unanswerable question.

Hermione remained quiet as she found her hanky and pulled it out, dabbing it carefully along her nose to quell the bleeding before wiping her eyes and blowing her nose- again, _carefully_- to get the snot out. She hated crying. No matter how cathartic it was, she always felt a disgusting mess afterwards. Her eyes were dry and itchy, her cheeks and nose puffy and red and her chin damp and sticky from collected tears and mucus. Yes, she was completely _disgusting._ No wonder Malfoy was looking at her now like…wait, he wasn't looking at her. But a pained look rested on his face as he inspected his fingernails. Did he feel _bad _for what he'd done? Surely not. She continued to dab at her nose with the hanky until it was stained a bright pink.

He could feel her shift in her seat under his inattentive watch. For a moment, Draco allowed himself the luxury of looking at her face. She looked a little better. Tearstained and somewhat distraught and the handkerchief in her hands was turning red from the blood, but the evidence of blood on her face was gone and she just looked a little puffy now. He could see her gingerly touching the side of her nose as he gazed at her from beneath heavy lids. He continued to inspect his nails until he heard her start to sniff, as if she _wanted_ his attention: as if she was _put out _with him that he'd treat her that way and then ignore her. He smirked. _Time for the real fun, _he thought.

Draco lifted his eyes to hers and they met each other's gaze over the table for a moment. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but she beat him to it.

"What is it _now_, Malfoy?" Now _her_ eyes were lidded and gazing at him steadily, as though she were _bored_ with the whole affair. He was a little startled at her attitude, but as he remained quiet for some minutes he noted a nervous look skitter behind those dark lashes for the briefest of seconds. Then it was gone. _No matter,_ he nodded inwardly. _That was all the confirmation I needed. I've gotten to her and she wants out. _He chuckled lightly. _Too bad for her._

"I think you owe me an apology, Granger," he smirked and waited for her response.

She looked shocked. "Me? Apologize to _you _when you're the one who hit _me?_"

_Wonderful, _he thought. Not only did she look shocked, she sounded outraged. It dissipated quickly though, even before he managed to snap back with, "Yes, _apologize_ to me for spitting in my face- especially after I'm the one who stopped your completely _uncalled for_ hysteria, you piece of trash!"

Hermione opened her mouth as though to respond, but she slowly shut it again and fell back against her seat, leaning her head back to stare at the ceiling. She brought the hanky up to her nose again. She wasn't sure if she was staunching the blood flow anymore or just trying to hide the tears that were gathering in her eyes once more. Damn it, she was _tired!_ Why didn't he understand that and just leave her alone for once? Oh, of course. He was _Malfoy._ Why leave someone alone who's sad and hurting already when you can kick her when she's down? She heaved a sigh and coughed a couple of times. She heard him say something else rude and insulting, but it barely registered this time. Instead of paying closer attention to him, she just rolled her eyes and sighed again. She heard the anger in his voice rising.

The words tumbled from her mouth before she could stop to think.

"Gods, Malfoy, not tonight. I'm just not inclined to argue with you right now. You are the one thing _not_ on my list of things to deal with at the moment. Can't you just leave, please, and stop being a git, just this one time? I'll _gladly_ argue with you tomorrow, if you'll just _leave me alone_, right now." She raised herself upright and looked straight at him.She could see anger boiling away behind his eyes, but all she could do was shrug at him. She _didn't _want to deal with him right then, it was true. Normally fighting with him gave her some kind of thrill, an adrenaline rush from facing down her enemy, but tonight she was in no shape for fighting. Especially not with Malfoy. He had easily overpowered her in the past and if it hadn't been for her wand and quick thinking, many was the time she could've been injured or killed by the boy. Malfoy was strong and quick and catlike in his movements. She knew that when he hunted, he won. She also knew that if she wanted to live she had to save this fight for another time. _Please, let him give up. Please, let him leave. Please…_ She could hear her heart thumping in her ears as she waited for him to do something.

Draco worried the inside of his cheek with his teeth as he struggled to understand what she's said. _She _wanted _him _to _leave her alone?_ How naïve was she? Draco Malfoy _never _left his prey alone once he'd begun stalking them until he either won the battle or was chased off. And here, after all these years of torment and torture and such an obvious _chase, _she wanted him to leave her alone on the night she was the most vulnerable, the night when he might actually _win_ the game and break her, once and for all. Not that he had the slightest idea of _how_ he wanted to break her, but he was certain an idea would come to him once she was in his grasp…again, not that he wanted to actually _touch _her, the filthy _mudblood_. She may have been his favorite person to fight with, but that didn't mean he _liked _her, by any stretch of the imagination. He stared at her across the table, fully aware that he was growing visibly angry. He had to do something, and quick. _Or did he have_ _to do anything? _Draco shook his head. What _was _that? Was he actually considering leaving her alone for now? His cheek worrying spread to chewing on his bottom lip.

Hermione watched him curiously. What was going on in his head? He was acting…strange. _Probably deciding how to punish me or make fun of me for thinking he might actually listen to me for once. _She realized it was foolish of her to ask him anything, to expect any nice or sympathetic behavior. Tears welled up in her eyes again, but before she could even bring the hanky up to her eyes once more, Malfoy stood up, his chair clattering away from him. His body was taut with anger and indecision.

_Well, now you're up, Malfoy, _he thought. _What's your next move? _Unfortunately for his better judgment, he already knew what he was going to do. He felt _compelled_, almost, to do the _right thing._ Not that any act of kindness towards a muggleborn was ever the _right thing_, but for some reason he didn't care as much tonight as he once might've. To make up for his unusual behavior, he leaned forward and angrily swept his arm across the study desk, knocking all her books and papers and inkpots to the floor with a mighty growl and crash.

Hermione visibly jumped in her seat and he nodded, satisfied that he'd at least scared her a little more.

He bent over her seated figure and spoke into her ear. "This is by no means over, _Granger._" Then he stalked from the library, cloak swirling behind him in an almost apologetic flurry or green and black. The darkness started swallowing him up almost immediately.

She sighed audibly in relief and slid from her chair to the floor, kneeling to recover her items. Most of the papers were soaked in ink and one of the books looked a little worse for wear, but it wasn't anything she couldn't easily scourge. A smile crept along her lips. She had won this round. She looked up suddenly after his retreating figure, puzzled. Malfoy could have easily taken advantage of her distraught state and had a good laugh, but he'd chosen to leave instead. He'd _listened_ to her. For the first time in her life. The smile grew wider. Not that she was going to let this one lapse fool her. No, she knew the next time she saw him she'd pay for his kind act tonight. If it could be called _kind,_ but she supposed that coming from a Slytherin and a Malfoy, knocking her books awry when he could've cursed her instead was practically a marriage proposal. She smiled once more and continued to pick up the mess he'd left with her.


	2. Chapter 2: Perhaps Now, a Beginning

Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise; all characters and ideas belong to J.K.Rowling.

Hermione trudged along the halls of Hogwarts slowly, reluctant to arrive back at her dormitory. She knew that the moment she entered the common room she would be the butt of every joke, every inane remark the other children uttered. She did not relish the thought of going back there right now at all. Shifting her book sack to her other shoulder, she let her mind wander back to her run in with Malfoy at the library. Even though her cheek and nose still ached from his strike, she found herself smiling. It was funny how, when everyone she knew and loved seemed intent on hurting her, that she would turn to the fly in her side for comfort. Realizing she was almost eager for their next encounter, she chided herself. _It's not as though I like him…it will simply be nice to have the constant of our mutual ridicule during this, well, whatever it is._ With that thought Hermione was glum again. She shook her head, brushing her eyes with the back of her hand. No tears this time. Good.

Before she knew it, she ended up in the Gryffindor common room, book sack dragging behind her. When had she dropped it off her shoulder? She couldn't remember. Her mouth was dry and she was nervous. What few kids there were in the common room all stared at her. All except her two best friends. Harry and Ron sat in a corner playing a game of wizard's chess. Both were staunchly ignoring her. She screwed up her eyes, waiting for tears. Instead, her eyes started itching. No tears.

Good.

Determinedly, Hermione slowly walked across the room, past the table at which Harry and Ron sat, and started up the stairs. She heard whispers and giggles behind her, but she didn't let them bother her. What she heard next, though, made her stop in her tracks.

"Glad that smell's downwind of us finally! Nothing spoils a game of wizard's chess quite like the odor of stale wine and burning rubber, eh Harry?"

Hermione almost turned around. Her head tilted to the right as if she wanted to look over her shoulder, but no, she wouldn't give Ron the satisfaction. His voice was laced with anger and spite and a small amount of hurt. _Okay, maybe I'm imagining the hurt. _In fact, she was certain she had to be, because Ron Weasley would never treat her this way on purpose unless he really and truly hated her. She stood a little taller and proceeded on up the stairs to her room.

Once she entered her room and had the door shut, Hermione dragged her bag to the foot of her bed, kicked off her shoes, flopped onto her bed and pulled the bed curtains closed tightly with a _snap_. She lay back on her pillow and stared into the dimly lit cave of her bed, waiting for sleep to claim her. It was earlier than normal for her to go to bed, but because of all the sleep she'd lost lately, she didn't feel bad for trying to get some extra rest. How could Ron treat her that way? She'd tried to explain things to him, really. How was she supposed to know that Ginny would swear her to secrecy? Besides, she couldn't exactly shout the truth to Ron and the world. _Your sister is acting like a little whore! _That was what she wanted to say. She wanted to explain, reassure Ron that he was the only guy for her, but she couldn't. She was Ginny's friend too, after all. Although Ginny hadn't exactly been the soul of kindness since the beginning of this horrid rumor. Besides which, she wasn't sure anymore if Ron _was _the guy for her. He was a nice boy, yes, and usually nice to her…but he had been the one that insulted her that first year. Only when she was by herself did she allow herself the indulgence of a pity party. Looking back on that time, she knew she'd never really forgiven him for saying that…well, she might've, but she'd certainly never forgotten his saying those things. He could be so…infuriating! That boy! She rolled over and beat up her pillow for a few minutes before falling back down onto the bed, exhausted. Whatever. She'd worry about everything again in the morning. Yes, she would track Ginny down and talk to Ron and fight with Malfoy and maybe things would start looking up again. She wanted her happy, adventure filled school year back and no amount of wine bottles, stained clothing and used rubbers was going to keep her from accomplishing her goals. Hermione sighed and nestled her cheek against the pillow. Tomorrow would be better.

Back in the common room, Harry broke an awed silence. "Ron! As much as I disagree with Hermione's behavior, don't you think you're going just a bit too far?"

Ron shoved his chair back and stood up. "Harry! How could you say that? You know she broke my heart!"

"You certainly haven't been acting that heartbroken lately," Harry muttered darkly, stealing a glance over in Lavender Brown's direction. Ron squeaked in indignation, but Harry continued. "You know, this isn't like Krum, Ron. We're not naïve fourth years anymore! I've been on your side this whole time because I thought you'd get over it and make up in a few weeks like you _always_ do. Instead, we're sitting here in the same quagmire we were in at the beginning of the year when you found her with all that…well, erm, you know. You never even let her properly explain herself!"

Ron turned away from Harry, angry, but knowing he was right. He turned his last trump card. "Harry, when I confronted her about it she wouldn't say anything. She didn't even try to offer me an explanation! I begged her to tell me, but all she would say was that she couldn't and would I please understand that she hadn't done anything wrong, really?" He snorted in derision. "How am I supposed to treat her now?"

Harry shook his head and stood up also. "I don't know, Ron, and I'm sorry…but I miss having her around. Make up your mind soon so that I know who I'm _allowed _to be friends with, okay?" Now Harry felt angry, but he didn't want to say so. He was sick of the whole childish affair. He offered Ron a pat on the back and then headed across the room and up the stairs to the boys' rooms. He thought back to how it had started. It seemed so ludicrous at the time…a wine stained dress, some telltale trash and a box of condoms. Even now it was completely unexplainable to him. It started when Ginny's roommate found those items lying under Ginny's bed just a couple of weeks into the semester. She'd immediately confronted Ginny, who was with Hermione at the time. Hermione had stepped up and confessed that the items were hers and that she'd asked Ginny to hide them for her. After all, her own roommates were horrible gossips and she didn't want the whole school knowing about…whatever it was. Of course, Ginny's roommate proceeded, over the course of the next two days, to spread the rumors all over school. Hermione insisted it wasn't for anything wrong, but no one believed her. No one except the mean-spirited girls who refused to believe that Hermione was attractive to anyone. Now this story from Ron about her refusing to tell him what was going on. He just felt so confused about the whole mess. It didn't make any _sense_! _Well,_ he thought grimly,_ if it doesn't make any sense then I'll just have to figure out the answer. Hermione is hiding something, there's no other explanation for her refusing to tell Ron what's going on. She must be hiding something…or someone._

Draco wandered the halls for a while after his failed intimidation of Granger in the library. He didn't want to go back to his house dorm for a while. It was stuffy and dark and, although he generally enjoyed his time spent plotting the downfall of many a student in the Slytherin common room, he really didn't like the space very much. Besides, with all the pent up anger left in his system he didn't think it would be a good idea to go back yet. He might take it out on some unsuspecting, innocent bystander…_wait a minute._ He smirked and spun on his heel, changing direction in a flash. _I don't have any problem beating up some dumb first year. Might be just what I need._

Twenty minutes and two ounces of blood later, he still didn't feel any better. The second year he'd conned into insulting him enough to throw a punch was lying in a broken and scared heap on the common room floor. He stared down at the kid and then motioned to his two friends, Crabbe and Goyle. They sauntered over slowly. They didn't want to interfere unless Draco was really finished. He nodded and they picked up the kid who screamed in pain.

"Take him to Madame Pomfrey," Draco sighed. He was really very put out now. He'd been denied the pleasure of taking Granger down and now not even beating some pansy up satisfied him. Maybe he ought to just call it a night and try to sleep. Pansy wandered into the common room and gave a little gasp.

"Draco, what's the matter?" She ran over to him and lifted his hands.

_Oh, that's interesting_. He hadn't even realized he was still standing there with the second years' blood on his hands. He looked at Pansy rather blankly and she stared back at him.

"Draco, what's wrong?" she asked again.

He shook his head and snatched his hands away. "Nothing, I was teaching someone a lesson," he replied shortly and turned to walk up the stairs to his room. She tried to follow him. "Get _off,_ Pansy," he practically snarled at her. He looked down at her and his face softened. What _was_ the matter with him? This was Pansy. Her face was pale and pinched. He leaned down off the step and clumsily gave her a hug. If one could call it that. It was more of a draping of arms than an actual embrace, but it seemed to suffice for Pansy's needs. She stared up at him, almost adoringly.

"Oh, Draco, I understand. You're just tired. I'll let you get some rest." She quickly walked off without another protest and he smiled at her retreating form. She was so easily manipulated. He could push her buttons as well as he pushed that mudblood's. He stopped halfway up the stairs, startled at the thought. Well, yes, he supposed there were many similarities, not between the two girls, but rather in how he treated them. So predictable. He smirked, continuing up the stairs, and started to feel like himself again. Yes, he would sleep on the problem and in the morning…in the morning all the treasures of the world awaited his taking. He would have breakfast with Pansy, make sure the second year wouldn't press any charges and then…then, he would hunt down Granger. Oh, yes. He was looking forward to the new day.


	3. Chapter 3: The Truth, Plus One

**Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise; all characters and ideas belong to J.K.Rowling.**

The next day dawned bright and sunny on Hogwarts castle. There wasn't a cloud in the sky and aside from a fine mist rising from the lake, the air was clear and the weather balmy. A small breeze blew about the grounds, picking up the occasional fallen leaf and swirling it about for a bit before dropping it unceremoniously in completely different territory. It was a beautiful day for everyone except the leaf.

Hermione felt a bit like those leaves. She imagined she was in a million little pieces and that the wind, all these people who were treating her unfairly, were simply tossing her around as if she didn't matter at all. As if their playing games with her was excusable because, well, she was just a leaf. She didn't matter in the grand scheme of things, so much. She pulled away from the window and walked back to her bed. With a flick of her wand it was made. She didn't really care if she kept everything immaculate anymore, but it never hurt to come home to a made bed. It was one of those small things that made her feel better. Not many things made her feel better these days. Stooping to the floor for a moment she snatched up her book sack and checked it, making sure she had the proper books. Seeing that she did, Hermione stood up and slung the pack over her shoulder.

Hermione was just looking at herself in the mirror before preparing to leave when there was a timid knock on her door. She looked over at it, puzzled. She thought she'd slept in too late for anyone to be left in the dorms. Not that she'd meant to sleep in, but she guessed she'd just been too tired lately. Granted, she did feel better now that she was well rested, but it also meant she'd missed breakfast. Hermione _liked _breakfast. It was one of the best meals of the day. How was she supposed to function properly without her breakfast? Well, not that it mattered much now anyway. She hadn't been functioning properly since the start of this ridiculous fight. The knock sounded on the door again and she glanced at herself in the mirror once more. _Oh, great_. There was a bruise forming right in the middle of her face. It covered part of her left cheek and onto the bridge of her nose. It was a dark red and grey color right now and she imagined that by the close of the day it would be dark blue, maybe even purple.

Another knock and then the door started to open. _Crap. _Hermione looked about for her wand, panicked, before remembering it was in her pocket. She raised it to her face and was about to perform a glamour charm when she heard Ginny's voice. The door opened wider and the girl stepped inside. She gasped and ran over to Hermione.

Hermione performed the charm anyway and then turned towards her. She took in Ginny's worried face. The girl, one of her good friends and the one responsible for the mess she was in, stood an inch or two shorter than her. Her robes were disheveled and it was obvious she'd been running. _Oh._ She looked down and saw the cup of pumpkin juice and squashed muffin in Ginny's hands. _Now I see._ She smiled softly and put her hands out to take the gifts. Ginny looked down too, flustered.

"Oh! Yes, I'm sorry- I think I spilled some of the juice…but I didn't see you at breakfast this morning and I thought, you know, that you might want something to eat before Charms this morning…," her voice trailed off as she handed the food over and continued to stare into her friend's face. Hermione avoided her gaze. Why should Ginny be nice to her now?

Ginny sighed and shuffled her feet a bit. "Hermione, who did that to you?" Ginny's eyes didn't leave her face and Hermione felt herself turning a bit red.

"Who do you think did it?" she snapped. She saw the blood drain from Ginny's face and realized what she'd said.

"Ron?!" Ginny squeaked out. "Ron did that to you?"

Hermione groaned inwardly. _Oh, no…no, no, no!_ What had she done now? She kicked herself mentally for making it sound wrong, but she didn't bother to correct Ginny's mistake. If Ron wanted to treat her badly, let the school think he was abusing her now. She didn't think she cared anymore. She smirked at her optimism from last night. _Right. Everything will be better in the morning. I'll be able to win Ron back._ _Ha!_ She discovered that she'd rather have revenge at this point. It was a surprising discovery, but one that somehow made sense. Maybe she'd been hanging around Harry too long. He always wanted revenge. No, he never thought this calmly about anything. Maybe she'd known _Malfoy_ too long. Yes, that made more sense. She felt her mouth working, trying to smile and quickly wiped it off, sniffling instead. Let Ginny think what she wanted. Suddenly, nothing mattered but getting even.

Ginny's hands flew to her mouth and she gasped. "Oh, Hermione! I'm so, so sorry! I never meant for any of this to happen…I really wish I could do something about it." Her voice sounded sad and Hermione turned to glance in the mirror once more before heading for the door, as if dismissing Ginny.

"You can do something about it, Ginny," Hermione said softly. She turned back to her friend.

Ginny looked away. "Hermione, I _can't,"_ she whined.

Hermione gathered her things once more, tucking the muffin in her bag and gulping down the pumpkin juice before leaving. "Yes, you can, Ginny. You just _won't._"

Ginny wasn't about to deny the truth in what Hermione said. She just didn't know if she could deal with Ron and Harry, oh, especially _Harry_, knowing the truth. Not that her roommate didn't still have her suspicions about Ginny's behavior. Just last night she'd cornered Ginny and threatened to spread rumors about her, too, if Ginny didn't start obeying the rules a little more. Ginny had scoffed at her and brushed off the implied insult easily enough, but now, standing here with her best friend mad at her and hurting so badly because of what she'd done, she could feel herself caving.

"Listen," she said, grabbing Hermione's sleeve before they exited the dorm, "you know I'd do anything to help, Hermione, I just want it to blow over a bit first."

Hermione shook her hand off. 'Oh, Ginny, this isn't going to blow over. It's been almost a month! Even if it does stop being the conversation of the hour, people will still whisper and laugh behind your back. They'll still tease you. The only difference is, they'll be teasing the wrong person if this goes on any longer."

Ginny tried to speak, but Hermione cut her off. "Ginny, I don't want to hear whatever it is you have to say. You know what the right thing to do is. Do you think Harry will be more impressed if he hears the truth from me?"

Ginny grabbed her arm again. "Hermione, no!"

Hermione shook her off and continued walking. "If you don't tell him, I will. I know I promised, but honestly, look at me! I haven't had a proper sleep in weeks, I'm missing meals, and-" she stopped as Ginny interrupted her.

"And my brother is so angry at you that things between you two will never be the same," Ginny finished quietly. "I know. But, Hermione, you're so much stronger and smarter than I am, you'll think of something!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Ginny, just shut up. Think about what you're doing. It's _wrong_, Ginny. Plain and simple. My life at Hogwarts is practically ruined and you think that bringing me a muffin and pumpkin juice will make me want to be friends with you again? I'll keep the secret for now, but I insist that you at least tell Harry and Ron _soon_, or _I will_. I can handle the rest of the school, but _I want my friends back._"

Ginny watched her as she rushed ahead, going to class, brushing a hand over her face as if to wipe away tears. She stomped her foot a little and Hermione called back to her over her shoulder.

"I don't deserve this, Gin. Please do the right thing!"

Then she was gone and Ginny was left standing alone in the hallway, the portrait to the Gryffindor common room standing open behind her. Gloomily, she turned around and shut it before going to class herself. What she and Hermione didn't realize was that Harry had come back to the dorms after breakfast himself, hoping to talk to Hermione. He walked out of the shadow of the boys' stairwell, a forgotten glass of pumpkin juice in his hand and a startled look on his face. He felt an angry flush spread up his neck to his cheeks and without thinking, flung the glass at the far wall of the common room. It shattered against the stones, leaving the sticky, sweet juice to trickle down the wall to the floor. He stared blankly at the wall and then turned and swiftly left the room, the portrait slamming shut behind him.

**Author's Note: Just curious- what do you all think? I'm not a review whore, but it would be nice to know whether you like it, intend to keep reading, and if you do like it, what will keep you coming back? I know _someone_ is reading because I watch my stats page like a hawk. I see you hitting my page. I know you're there. Tell me what you like and maybe I'll listen. Thanks for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4: A Pair of Fine Eyes

**Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise; all characters and ideas belong to J.K. Rowling.**

When Draco Malfoy woke up that morning, he didn't feel at all refreshed. In fact, he felt stiff and sore. He rolled out of bed ungracefully and went over to the mirror. No bruises, no noticeable ailments. What was making him feel so…_ah._ Yes, he'd beaten on that kid last night. He'd almost forgotten. Glancing around the room, he could see that his roommates were all still in bed. _What time is it?_ The clock on his nightstand read _5:30AM_. He blanched. What was he doing up so early? Draco looked back at his bed longingly, but he was up now. There was no helping it. When he woke up, he stayed up. He sighed and scratched his head. It was far too early. What had woken him up this early, anyhow? He went over the list of things to do today in his head.

_Breakfast with Pansy, make sure that stupid second year stays quiet, go to class…ah ha. _He'd found the one that had been bothering him all night. _Hunt down Granger. Possibly give her another beating. _The beating wasn't actually included on the original list, but it made him feel better to think it. After all, she deserved one for forcing him out of bed so early. He could've gotten another hour of sleep! He kicked at his book bag and winced as his foot came in contact with the heavy Potions book. _That was uncomfortable._ He smirked a little. Yes, he might have to go after Granger after all. Shrugging at his misfortune, Draco grabbed a towel and a change of clothes and headed for the bathrooms. Time enough for plotting later.

As he stepped into the steamy shower, he caught himself thinking about the Granger girl once more. What was it about her that had kept him from sleeping well? Lathering himself up, he considered the problem. Her hair was adora- _barely _tolerable; her skin a cream- dingy color; and her eyes…well, there was no bad way of describing her bright, hazel eyes. He thought about those eyes for a bit. _Not that I care, but they do change color in the most interesting manner._ Chocolate brown when upset, flecked with gold when she was sad and a swirling olive when she was studying…or happy. He'd seen her eyes turn that creamy brown color one other time. It was a time when he'd been unfortunate enough to witness an intimate moment between her and the Weasel. He'd been with his friends at the time, all of whom had immediately begun gagging and making crude remarks. Draco, however, had barely been able to tear his eyes away from the scene. He'd watched her face, the little _mudblood's_ face, waiting for some sign that she honestly didn't enjoy kissing the Weasel. He watched so closely, _so close_, that when she drew her head away he'd seen those hazel eyes turning a dark brown color- that chocolate brown- as she turned and pulled Ron into the presumably empty classroom behind them. Groaning, he immersed himself under the scalding water, rinsing his body clean. Now, if only he could rinse his mind. It had taken a lot of rude remarks and too much laughter to convince his friends that he had no interest in Granger after that incident. _Another reason to beat her up. _Not that he really wanted to beat her up. At least, he didn't think so.

Grabbing a towel, he dried himself off quickly and wiped the mirror clean of steam. It fogged a little at the edges of his image. Draco was a brutal judge of his own body. His perfectionism was why he worked so hard at Quidditch. Sure, he had a love for the game like the next guy, but it was the workout that Quidditch afforded him that was worth every penny his father paid to get him on the team. Inherited good looks were never enough: he wanted his whole body to be sculpted like the god he was. Like the god others thought he was. He wondered briefly if Granger thought he was a god. _No, if she thinks of me at all it's as an angel of torture, of death, at best. _He smirked. That was probably for the best. Certainly no matter what route his thoughts took, all she would ever be to him was a surprisingly appealing bookworm. With chocolate, hazel, olive and golden eyes. He leaned forward until his forehead touched the mirror. He breathed out, fogging his image again. There was little point in following this train of thought anymore.

Exiting the shower area, he passed the empty rows of sinks and stalls and arrived back in his dorm room, towel still wrapped about his waist. He looked down at himself when he felt the cool air touch his skin. Startled, he realized he hadn't put on the change of clothes he'd taken with him to the bathroom. They were in his hand now, crumpled up tightly in a ball. When had that happened? He stared at them for another minute and then discarded them for a fresh change. _Gods don't wear wrinkles._

By the time his friends and roommates were up and about, Draco had finished getting ready and was already down in the common room. He was propped up in a couch, his feet on the armrest, casually studying his Defense Against the Dark Arts text. It felt strange for him to be up and ready so early in the day. Being a great one to value his sleep, he rarely rose before 6:30AM. If he was lucky, he'd be up by seven o'clock and downstairs for breakfast by 7:45. He never ate very much for breakfast. In fact, he was always astonished at the children who filled their plates with eggs and sausage, liver and kidneys: even a bowl of cold cereal repulsed him. While it was true that he ate, he didn't gorge himself. _Gods don't gorge themselves. _He had a very specific idea about the kind of god he wanted to be. He wanted the perfect body: lithe, graceful and dexterous enough that he could dodge a curse when necessary. He wanted to be loved, but in that adulatory way that girls had about them. Actually, he thought he might not mind if the boys loved him too, but he didn't want anyone getting the wrong impression. He also wanted to eat when he was hungry, but only until he was almost full. Draco was fairly sure that being a little bit hungry all the time was what motivated a person. All things considered, he thought he'd make a pretty good god. He didn't really want to be concerned with all the things that gods were usually concerned with: morals, ethics, religion. No, a healthy dose of superficial hero worship was all he required. He smiled to himself and it was a real smile, not the smirk he normally wore.

"Draco! You're awake!" He heard the bubbly voice that could be so cold sometimes coming from the stairwell of the girls' dorm. Looking over his shoulder, still smiling, he saw Pansy descending the stairs. She saw his smile and hers suddenly grew wider. She rushed across the room and arrived at his side in seconds, breathless. Her cheeks were glowing and all around she was looking…pretty. _Not as pretty as a pair of 'fine eyes' I can recall, _Draco thought. His smile faltered for a moment and he looked back down to his book, worrying his cheek again. So what now? First he couldn't even finish the job on the stupid muggleborn and now he was finding it impossible- no, extremely difficult- to get her best feature out of his mind. He snarled and felt Pansy jump away from him, startled. He looked back up at her and reached out his hand.

'No, I didn't mean you, Pansy. Come back." He swung upright and put his feet on the floor. He patted the space next to him. "Come. Sit with me." She obediently sat down next to him, mollified. She scooted closer. Draco knew she wanted him to put his arm around her, but she settled instead for slipping her arm through his. He looked at her carefully. What was it about her that kept him around? She smiled shyly at him and he smirked back, suddenly uncomfortable.

Draco knew that many in the school thought he was an unreasonable bastard, who only cared for himself and would step on whom and whatever was necessary to get what he wanted. To him, such assumptions were partially true. He did care for himself a great deal. It was how he'd been raised: to always put himself first. Well, perhaps now it was to put the Dark Lord first, but he honestly thought the first version of the rule still applied. After all, one couldn't serve the Dark Lord if one was dead. Besides, happy people did their jobs better. In order to achieve that end, he would step wherever was necessary. However, he generally tried to choose the path of least resistance. Unfortunately, that path had been swiftly dwindling ever since Potter's return. Of course these underlings at Hogwarts never saw the decent side of him. They all thought his beliefs were wrong and attempted to thwart him at every turn. _When no one sees things your way, you will always be the bad guy, _he mused.

Pansy tugged on his arm and he stood up in response, holding his hand out to help her up. She took it, surprised at the gesture. He would still refuse to hold her hand on their way to the great hall, but she would take what she could get.

"Time for breakfast?" he asked her, swinging his book bag across his shoulder. It hung easily at his side, no visible strain anywhere on his body. Pansy nodded, smiling a little wider. Damn, her man was good looking.

"Of course, Draco, _darling_," she practically purred and followed him out the common room door, hanging on his arm.

**Author's Note: Thanks to my reviewers! I appreciate the notes of encouragement. Great thought about Hermione, too. I wanted to add that the two words in quotes about her 'fine eyes' is from Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice, which I also do not own. **


	5. Chapter 5: Gossip, Two Sugars, Cream

**Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise; all characters and ideas belong to J.K. Rowling.**

When Draco and Pansy arrived at the great hall, he immediately scouted the Slytherin table for their usual seats. Looking around he could see that the number of students was greatly diminished from what he was used to. He supposed it was the hour of the morning. He ushered Pansy onto the bench and sat beside her. She almost immediately began chattering away about anything that came to her mind. He poured some juice for them both and watched her from beneath lazy eyes. He didn't want her to think he was too interested in the drivel she was spouting. In the drivel she spouted on a regular basis. They spent the better part of half an hour sitting there, him silent and her yapping away.

Finally she decided to eat as other students began arriving. Draco watched as she filled her plate with all sorts of food and then proceeded to pick at it, almost sullenly. He wondered, if someone was going to take an enormous amount of food, then _why _for the love of Merlin wouldn't they eat it? Instead, Pansy took a bite or two of every pile on her plate and then just pushed the food around while she continued to gab. He found his mind wandering as he munched absently on a sliced orange. Glancing about the hall from his position, he could see part of the Gryffindor table across the way. He didn't really pay much attention to the other houses. They didn't contain his self-proclaimed mortal enemies. Besides which, Draco found life easier when he focused on one quarry at a time. Anything more than that and his work became sloppy. The last thing he needed was shoddy work ruining his plans for the year.

After scanning his rivals' table for a moment he thought he spotted the mass of brown hair that signaled Hermione's presence. His eyes fixed on her and he almost stood up immediately, but then the girl turned. It wasn't her. He felt his mood swing downwards. What was wrong with him? For that matter, what was wrong with _her_? As far as he knew, and he'd been intimidating her with his stares long enough to know for certain, Granger was always one of the first down to breakfast. She was also one of the first to leave. He smirked. Perhaps he'd messed her up more badly than he'd thought, if she was too out of sorts to come to breakfast for once. Even on her bad days she was down here, filling her stomach. However, the thought of her eating didn't repulse him as much. She ate small portions and never took more than she could handle. She was very conscientious and didn't waste food, either on her plate or her clothes. He appreciated a ladylike sense of detail and proportion in a girl. _Wait- what? _Granger, that _mudblood,_ a lady? A _classy _lady? He shook his head. He really must be losing his mind.

He noticed, however, that her best friends, Potter and Weasel, were at the table. They'd come in with the little one, what was her name? Ah, yes. _Ginny._ She was flirting with Potter quite openly. What was she doing? Hadn't Pansy told him she was dating that Thomas boy…or Seamus…or, ah fuck. Draco had no idea who the Weaselette was shagging and he didn't much care, except that it gave him material against his mortal enemies. Not that any amount of teasing or rumor starting or impromptu dueling really made him feel threatened by those three. Those _four,_ now, he supposed. Perhaps, though, meeting them face to face in a real world battle would be more frightening than such little spats inside the safety of the school's walls. He noted that although Ron was ranting as usual and eating at the same time (_disgusting!_) and _Ginny_ was making nice to him, Potter looked positively miserable. He wondered what was wrong with him and had begun to make up stories in his head when Pansy interrupted his thoughts.

"Looking for Granger?" she giggled. "I wouldn't be surprised if you don't see her for a while. I just heard that Weasley isn't even ignoring her anymore- he just insults her whenever he feels like it. Oh, and Jess told Belinda who told Violet who told _me _that her roommates aren't speaking to her either, but that they did blow up rubbers a few nights ago and hung them on her bed. Then, Vi said that apparently someone heard Granger is actually allergic to the material they make the rubbers with, and so she had to go to Pomfrey for a rash on her _face_ because the rubbers fell down on her while she was asleep!" Pansy gasped out the last little bit of the story before gulping in a new lungful of air in order to laugh wildly.

Draco could have sunk into the floor right there. He _hated_ Pansy's laugh. It was the only thing about her that he never thought he'd be able to tolerate. It might not have been what kept him from truly committing himself to her, but at the same time, he was still a teenager! Draco Malfoy was a god, yes, but a teenage god who had responsibilities to himself to find the best girl available and then make her _his. _Pansy Parkinson was decidedly _not_ that girl. He knew that he was leading her on, but he also had a horrible sinking feeling that she might be the default choice. It was what made him keep her around. No, Draco knew full well that while she did have some admirable qualities, they mostly centered around the fact that she was a pureblood. His smirk disappeared completely as Pansy kept speaking.

She'd been turned around, gossiping with a Ravenclaw upperclassman the next table over, when she suddenly turned back to him. "Draco, you'll never believe what I just heard!"

He listened halfheartedly as she began to detail Granger's latest woe. He noticed that, over at the Gryffindor table, Potter and _Ginny_ had both disappeared. Perhaps one of them was going to look for Granger? No, more likely going to catch a snog somewhere. He gagged on the thought and pulled himself back to Pansy's conversation.

"And then Patil, who was still in her dorm, heard Granger and Weasley talking, and apparently that Ron _hit_ her last night! I mean, I sort of knew about the fight they'd had, but really, can't he get in trouble for striking another student?" Pansy finished, breathless again and Draco stared at her.

He found that he was a little horrified. Weasel had hit Granger? When was this? How could this have happened? She was _his, _damn it! He had no right to hit that girl, let alone a former friend and fellow student! He, Draco Malfoy, teenage god, was the only one in the school besides _Potter_ who could hit people and get away with it. What did this mean? His head reeled with thoughts of Granger, stupid mudblood that she was, being beaten senseless by an impotent Weasel. The thought didn't cheer him any and he was still left with a feeling of being cheated, somehow.

Ignoring Pansy's continued chatter, Draco stood up. It was time to go to class. He couldn't sit in the great hall listening to ridiculous gossip anymore. He was very much afraid of what he might do to Pansy if she laughed about Weasel hitting Granger one more time. It wasn't _funny! _His brain forced him to pause. _Why not? _He looked over at his rivals' table once more. _Yes, why wasn't it funny? _He found a small smirk making its way along the corners of his mouth. There was only one way to solve this issue. He had to see Granger, to confirm or deny the story with her. It was suddenly a burning need. If she was going to be his prey, he didn't want any other hunters laying a hand on her. He wanted her in top shape for the start of their new chase. He looked down at Pansy and smiled weakly. She glanced up at him, confused.

"Sorry, Pansy. Have to get going. I need to…erm, study before class. I'll see you there?" He lifted her hand to his mouth and then walked away quickly before she could stop him. _If she follows me, I may have to kill someone…_

Luckily, she stayed right where she was. She was in shock from his goodbye and figured it would take her at least another hour to work out that Draco Malfoy had actually shown her affection. Shaking her head, she watched him stride from the hall and smiled at his back. She knew he'd come around someday. It suddenly looked as though that day had arrived.

**Author's Note: I'm sorry I changed the rating. I wrote it the f-word and decided it was the best word for the job, but I feel it is stronger language than _damn_. Changing the rating was a question of ethics, if you will. J**


	6. Chapter 6: Commonsense v Panic

**Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise; all characters and ideas belong to J.K. Rowling.**

Although Draco searched for a good twenty minutes before he head to get to class, he didn't succeed in finding the muggleborn. He actually could have kept looking for another five or ten minutes, but he stopped himself before he could actually break into the Gryffindor common room. His reasoning for looking for her in the first place wasn't that solid, so luckily it didn't take much convincing. _One, you hit her yourself; two, she's just a mudblood; three, you don't even __**like**__ her…_was that it? He thought so. Besides, breaking into enemy territory should be saved for very special missions, like…killing Potter. He nodded to himself and stepped back from the portrait to the common room, slowing his breath to a more natural pace. He frowned. _Was I running? _He hadn't even noticed. That was potentially bad. Now he was behaving like a lunatic. He took a deep breath, smoothed his hair back from his face and turned around, deciding it was time to head to class. His conscience tugged at him while he walked, but he shook it away. He was used to shrugging off those pangs of conscientiousness. But because he was already gone, he missed the exchange between two once great friends.

His first class of the day went smoothly enough. It was a mixed Charms class with some Ravenclaws. He didn't despise their house. In fact, he had used their members on more than one occasion, so he sort of enjoyed working with them. They were smart and talented wizards and witches, not unlike a certain young witch that had been on his mind for the last couple of weeks. _Forget that! It's not worth it, remember?_ He shoved his books back into his bag almost viciously. One or two of his mates noticed and waved goodbye quickly before scurrying out of his way. He picked up his bag and headed out of the classroom himself. It was Transfiguration next. He always had that with Gryffindors, although since everyone had taken O.W.L.s the make up had changed, however insignificantly. There were simply fewer students this year. It made class easier in some ways and more difficult in others.

Take now, for instance. He stopped at the door and looked about. He was the first person to class and it made choosing a seat very difficult. Normally he'd take whatever seat was left over and not surrounded by dimwits. Lately, though, he'd noticed that he was increasingly the first one to arrive. Draco Malfoy had never before been the first to arrive to any class, save Defense. Although even in the course he'd had his moments…

Smirking, he walked up towards the front of the classroom and chose a seat in the second row, towards the center aisle. That was a fairly neutral position. He looked about again, hoping someone else would arrive. _A certain brown-eyed, brown-haired someone else? _After all, he still wanted to talk to her about the alleged Weasel incident. He had his doubts by this point, now that he'd had time to cool down from his initial reaction to the news. It was more likely that she'd just let people believe that the mark from where he'd struck her the night before was from someone else. He realized full well how awkward it would have been for her to explain to someone that it was a black eye from Malfoy. He could almost hear the tone of voice she would use when saying his name, too. It was really rather hateful, but he was fairly certain she meant it. _Funny how, when she means what she's saying, I don't mind so much._ Ridiculous. He wiped the smirk off his face and reached down to pull his Transfiguring guide from his book pack, settling down to wait. He didn't have to talk to her right away anymore. Maybe after class, if she showed up at all. But he kept his peripheral vision alert for signs of that telltale hair.

By comparison, Hermione's day had been going awfully. She was amazed that even now, two months into school and weeks past the birth of that hateful rumor, people were still actively going out of their way to hurt her feelings. She wouldn't have cared so much if they were just ignoring her, but they were still insulting her to her face, accidentally tripping her, and spilling things on her robes _all the time._ It was so…_juvenile_. She smirked a bit, not daring to actually smile. When she smiled they did even worse things. It was as if they couldn't stand to see her happy when she had done such horrible things. She stopped herself. _But I didn't do them, _she reminded herself. That was one of the hard parts as well: not forgetting that she hadn't actually done anything wrong. She'd been pretending to the role for so long now that she had whole days where she didn't even get indignant when people made snarky remarks. It was…disgusting, what was happening to her. She found herself ignoring her work, ignoring her future. All that time she spent in the library she was struggling to write even a few lines of homework. Instead of breezing through the reading she would take an hour to comprehend one page of text. Her mind was increasingly not on her work and more on the people around her; on the people Ginny was sleeping with; on the people who now hated her. Most of her free time was spent trying to resist killing her fellow students. If she isolated herself in the library, she reasoned, she'd never have to see another soul. She'd never have to think about the way Ron used to care about her, because gods only knew _he _never went to the library willingly. She'd never have to cut her tongue out trying not to spill Ginny's secret to Harry, the one boy who _deserved _to know the truth. She'd never have to…focus on school…or take her N.E.W.T.s, or even…well, she didn't know what, but it wouldn't be good. She was going to _fail _at life, she was certain. Fortunately, Hermione reached the door of her next class at that moment. Transfigurations. Well, that was an enjoyable class at least, if she was by herself. _It'll never happen. _She shook her head glumly and headed inside.

_Stop being silly, Hermione, _she told herself. She couldn't afford too many self-indulgent anxiety attacks. She was dealing with too much right now to waste time in that manner. _Of course you'll pass your classes and you will **not** die alone in the library. _She smirked again. Malfoy probably wouldn't let her be long enough for that to happen. Besides, today really was going a little better than the day before. After all, she'd talked to Ginny and although it hadn't gone as planned, the girl knew that her time was running out. There was no progress on the Ron front, but that probably wouldn't change for a while. However, she knew she and Malfoy shared the current class period so there was a good chance she'd get to fight with him. That would be according to plan, at any rate. She glanced about the class to see who had arrived and thought it was empty at first. _Good._ It was better for her to get to class early these days; that way no one could trip her on her way into the classroom. She took a few steps into the room and tripped anyway.

She hit the floor with a crash and everything went flying from her bag. She pulled herself to her knees and rubbed the elbow that had taken the brunt of the fall. That was going to be sore in an hour or two. She looked about her at the books, realized one or two of the bindings had ripped, and felt tears start to well up. No, this couldn't be happening! Not here, not when class was going to start in just a few minutes…without warning, laughter broke out from behind her. She whipped her head around to see one of the Slytherins from her class and his cronies standing in the doorway. Her eyes narrowed, despite that it made a few tears trickle down her cheeks. She whipped out her wand and was struggling to stand up when she heard a new voice behind her. Her eyes widened in shock, allowing even more tears to escape.

"What's the matter with you _imbeciles_?" Malfoy's voice warned. It was soft but menacing, laced with a healthy does of his signature: _spite_. She didn't turn around, but instead started gathering her spilled items back into her bag. Stunned as she was at his interference _and _his presence in the room, she wasn't about to let the opportunity to escape from the scene pass her by.

"Why are you wasting your time on this _mudblood_? Shouldn't your time be better spent on _learning_? Don't you know there are more interesting things in life than insulting muggleborns? Like preparing for war, _hmm_?" By that point his voice sounded as if he'd lost interest in their pathetic attempts at domination and power struggles already and was dismissing them from making bigger fools of themselves. As if he was doing them a favor.

If Hermione could have laughed without her cheek hurting, she would have right there, amidst her books and quills and the squashed roll. The other students backed away from Malfoy and walked quietly past her, save a sneer or two, to take their seats in the class. As she turned around to grab the last book, she saw that Malfoy was still standing over her. Her gaze traveled up his legs and she met his eyes for a brief moment before looking away and pushing herself up off the floor. Once she was standing she looked to him again, but he was already walking back to his seat. _What was that?_ She thought he'd looked almost kind, maybe territorial. The thought made her want to laugh again. Well, so far they hadn't fought, but as he had made her chuckle she thought that was probably equivalent. Still, his intervention was puzzling. Perhaps even troubling. After taking a seat in the back and pulling out her book, she looked ahead of herself. He was sitting towards the front. That made her want to laugh, too. Their positions were practically reversed. Normally he'd be in the back of the class and she'd be at the front.

_Wait, that's not right._ The past few years he'd actually begun sitting closer to the front. In fact, he got pretty decent scores. Maybe he wasn't such a horrible boy after all. Unfortunately, Malfoy picked that precise moment to turn around in his seat and glare at her. She kicked herself mentally as she saw him mouth something at her. _Of course he's not nice! He only helped because he **wants** something. Well he won't get it._ With that thought she looked back down to her book and didn't look up again for the rest of the class except to quickly search the room for Harry and Ron. When she spotted them sitting in the middle of the room, she felt a pang of regret and bitterness. Normally she would've been right there beside them, taking notes for them, telling them to shush…it made her heart ache to see them there. She looked back at her work and kept her head down the rest of the period. That was unfortunate because if she'd watched a little longer she would've seen Harry staunchly ignore Ron's repeated attempts to engage him in conversation. She would've noticed the way Harry was holding himself at a funny angle, like he was tense and incredibly uncomfortable to be seen with Ron.

Instead, class ended without further incident and Hermione was actually a little bit proud of herself for taking several inches of notes. She'd been able to concentrate on her work for once and it felt refreshing. As she packed her things away she heard the other students shuffling past her and out the door. The most interesting things she heard were twofold.

First, as Ron and Harry left she heard Ron say, "Look, Harry, it's that cheating tart I used to like." She felt tears sting her eyes when she heard it, but managed to blink them back rather stoically. She felt surprise wash over her when Harry replied. "Shut up, Ron. You don't know what you're talking about. Oh, and by the way, I think I've made up my own mind about who I'm allowed to be friends with." And then…then, she felt a presence next to her and arms enfolding her and she had to bite her tongue to keep from bawling.

She couldn't breath. Not because his cloak was smothering her, but because her heart was literally in her throat. She felt the anxiety and panic creeping up on her again and she shoved Harry away. It was the last thing she wanted to do, but she had to know the truth from him. Why now, she wanted to ask. _Why now? _He stared at her, embarrassed by his own demonstration and stepped back from her a little.

"Well?" she asked.

Harry looked away, a flush creeping up his neck. "Hermione, I, erm…," he paused, unsure of what to say. If he told her he'd found out the truth, she'd think he was a git because he hadn't just believed her from the beginning. If he said he'd just finally made up his mind that Ron was a dunce of the highest degree, she'd ask him why it had taken him so long to believe her. He decided not to lie…completely. "Look, Hermione. We've been friends a really long time now and, well, I've gotten tired of all this fighting." She was quiet, obviously waiting for him to continue. The trouble was that he didn't know how to continue. He'd never had to choose sides before. Ron and Hermione had always made up before he'd been forced to decide who was the better friend.

Nervous now, Harry stumbled through a few more lines before stopping. "I can't believe I ever thought Ron was right about you, Hermione. I know all these just sound like excuses, but I don't mean them that way. The bottom line is that I messed up and I realize how badly I messed up, but I miss you and I'll always love you and be your friend no matter what you've done or what anyone else _says_ you've done, even if it takes me too long to figure out what stupid git I've been. Please," he begged quietly, "_please_ forgive me and _let me help you_."

Harry closed his eyes and said a prayer in his mind. If only…if _only _he wasn't too late to make things up to her. He felt a tentative hand slip into his and he opened his eyes. She was still frowning, but her eyes were soft and teary and she didn't push him away this time when he put his arms about her. She felt small and fragile in his arms and he stiffened as the knowledge that this rumor had been eating her up from the inside out these past weeks dawned on him. _Way to protect your friends, Harry, _he chided himself and held her closer.

Wrapped up in Harry's cloaks as she was, she couldn't see past him to where Malfoy was exiting the class. His gaze lingered on the two friends, confused. What had caused the sudden change of heart for Potter? Draco shook his head and continued out of the class before the burning sensation in the pit of his stomach could boil out of control. He knew that sensation and he didn't like associating it with the mudblood. That could have dire consequences and a god never dealt with dire consequences when the situation that caused them could be avoided. He pondered the thought for a moment, realizing that real gods probably didn't have to worry about dealing with any consequences because they could just turn back time, or resurrect the dead, or blast people out of existence. _Hmm_. He'd have to do some research on the last possibility. It had real potential. The sensation suddenly growled and he looked about, wondering if anyone had noticed. It would do him no good for someone to notice the rather _unnatural_ feelings that were swiftly developing, unchecked, in his lower abdomen. _No good at all._ Ignoring the familiar symptoms, he stalked out of the class and caught up with Pansy as she was coming out of the class across the hall. Lunch was definitely in order.

**Author's Note: I just want my readers to know that this _is _a D/HR ship, I swear. It's just a little slower than others because I like spending time on story and character development. I do hope to end it in a timely manner, but I make no guarantees. For the time being, just have fun and remember to stop and smell the roses. I am. **


	7. Chapter 7: Quite Enough of That

**Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise; all characters and ideas belong to J.K. Rowling.**

Lunch was most decidedly a bust. Dumbledore had apparently given the house elves leave to serve leftovers in order to prepare for the Halloween feast, which was two nights away. Not that leftovers from the Hogwarts kitchen were terrible, but the students were all rather disappointed. They weren't used to making sandwiches out of unidentifiable cold, pinkish meat and eating cream of broccoli-potato-corn-chicken-mushroom soup on a regular basis. In fact, most of them weren't sure when the last time they'd even been served the, ah, _meat_ was. Or cream of broccoli. Or chicken. One boy thought he'd had a serving of creamed corn a few nights ago, but no one wanted the details. If this was what they were given, they weren't about to ask questions they didn't want to know the answers to. All in all it was extremely disappointing, and while most of them were looking forward to the feast in a few days, they felt that it didn't warrant such a lousy meal. There was more than one green face in the great hall and an overabundance of patients in the infirmary afterwards. More than one student went rushing back to the dorms to gather his chocolate frog collection before his roommates could pilfer them all.

Draco had just finished choking back vomit after watching Pansy scrape mold off a piece of cheese _and then eat it _when he noticed _her _enter the hall. She was with Potter, who still seemed tense, although there was a real smile on his face now. He watched as Potter ushered Granger onto a bench and tucked her hand under his arm protectively. He thought he might need to throw up again. As he felt Pansy shift next to him in her seat he realized he was watching Granger too closely. _She's not important…don't make this a trial for yourself. _He nudged his thoughts away from her and turned back to his table, but his mind kept wandering as he listened absentmindedly to Pansy's prattle. He fervently hoped that Potter's change of heart wouldn't damage his own game plan too seriously. After all, he still needed to have a good fight with that mudblood today. He wondered why he hadn't taken advantage of the opportunity to bother her earlier, during class. Yes, that was strange. He'd had a good chance, there. Instead, he'd stood there like a dolt and stared down at her with a blank expression. He wouldn't have been surprised if his mouth had been hanging open. He had an image in his mind of the most humiliating face he could ever make and it was that one: the slack jawed, drooling, blankly staring village idiot. _Gods are __**not **__village idiots!_ Yes, that was perhaps more important to remember than the one about wrinkles. Catching another quick glance at Granger, he gathered his things from the table and patted Pansy on the back awkwardly. She looked over at him, puzzled.

"I have to go. I don't think I want any more…lunch." He finished with a devastating sneer at the food on the table and Pansy flushed and nodded. She knew he'd looked a little green when she'd eaten that cheese, but, well, what did he expect her to do? Starve? Instead of saying any of those things, though, she just stared back at him and smiled weakly. He gave her cursory smile and wandered off. She watched him for a moment and then turned back to her friends. Oh well. She flicked some more mold off the remaining cheese and popped it in her mouth.

Draco made sure Pansy's back was turned and then made his way over past the Gryffindor table. He kept his head up and acted as though he was walking over to insult Potter. He could see both Granger and Potter's backs stiffen as he passed, but he didn't say anything to them. Mostly he wanted to hear what was being said. _Damn._ They were speaking too softly. He shrugged and turned back the way he'd come, passing the Weasel on his way out. This time he heard something.

"Come on, Ginny, surely you can talk some sense into him? He's my best mate and everyone knows he's got a crush on you!" Weasley was whining to his little sister. She was staring at him like a deer caught in headlights. She looked fearful as she glanced down the table to where Potter and Granger were sitting. He slowed down a bit to hear them better.

"No, Ron. Well, I mean, you've known him longer and I- I don't think I can use Harry that way…I mean, it's not fair, is it, to ask him to choose sides against her…," she replied, clearly stalling for time. It was as if she was hoping someone would come and rescue her from a sticky situation.

"Whatever, Ginny. I know you're still secretly friends with her. I wouldn't expect anything less from two _girls._ You're all alike, always sticking together even if one of you is a complete bitch." He muttered the last bit under his breath, but Ginny's eyes narrowed.

"I heard that, Ron Weasley!" She was glaring at him and stood up, shoving her plate away from her. Draco stopped and gave up all pretense of just strolling by. _This _looked like it was going to be interesting. He took a seat at the nearby Hufflepuff table and leaned back, ready for a show. Some of the students around him glared at him, but took his cue and turned around as well. He smirked. _That's right, my comrades, _he thought, _we're all the same on the inside. _Looking down the Gryffindor table he could see that the only two students _not _watching the dawning spectacle were Potter and Granger. _Stupid mudblood, doesn't she know what's good for her?_ He was fairly certain that whatever came out of this confrontation might be the turning point in the life of the rumors surrounding her.

He stared at her back, willing her to turn around and watch. Instead, Potter turned and caught him staring. They looked at each other for a moment, the hatred between the two almost palpable. Potter caved first and turned back to Granger. _Fine, _he sneered, _don't watch. Don't participate. You could __**do **__something about all this, Potter, and it will be your fault, your negligence, that allows this to continue past today. _He thought briefly that Potter must've heard him, because he stood up as well at that moment. _Finally. _Draco sighed in relief. He looked about him quickly, wondering if anyone had noticed that slip. No one? Good. He didn't really have a lot of sympathy for the Granger girl, but he did think that if a courageous young man was going to elect himself a girl's protector then that man should _do his fucking job._ He smirked and watched the scene unfold. He really didn't think he could have planned it the way it happened.

Weasley was looking up at Ginny, obviously surprised by behavior at first. Then his face slowly began to turn a bright red. Ginny's face was turning the same shade, a symptom of anger in the Weasley family. She immediately began yelling at her brother and he started to shout back.

"You shut up, Ron Weasley! How dare you call Hermione or me a bitch! You have no right, you self-righteous _twat_!" She fairly spat the last word. "Besides, maybe if you'd been doing your job as a boyfriend- if you'd ever even _asked her out_- then she might not have felt compelled to _experiment!"_ Ginny shrieked the last word just as Weasley began to sputter and then shout in reply.

"I? _Me?_ You think this is _my fault?_ It is not! I've always been nice to Hermione! I really loved her! And she _knew it _and went around with other boys anyway_!"_

"_HA! _If she knew it, then why would she need to go find other boyfriends? _You're a git, Ron! _You're always insulting her- to her face, even! That's not love, that's torture! Unless you're changing your name to _Malfoy!"_

At that, Weasley's face paled considerably. "What- what do you mean?! I've always-," he broke off as Ginny's voice rose even higher. Was that possible? Draco didn't know, but he suspected lunch wouldn't be the only reason people ended up in the infirmary today. He was slightly insulted that she'd compare Weasley's behavior to his own, but he could understand the mistake. Smirking a little more, he turned his attention back to the fight.

"_I know you hit her, Ron Weasley! _I don't care how many rubbers you find- that's never going to be okay! How, how _could _you?! _You unforgivable, insulting, horrid man! _I can't believe you're my brother!!!_" _At that she finally lost control of herself and ran from the hall, clumsily clutching her book sack to her chest as large, angry tears rolled freely down her face.

Weasley looked down at his plate weakly, shocked beyond words. The red color had spread to his ears and he was shaking slightly. Draco wanted to laugh, he was having so much fun watching the debacle. He looked over to Potter again, waiting for him to make his move. Whatever else he knew about Potter, it was that the boy _always _made a move and it was usually of the more interesting variety.

Harry could feel a flush spreading up his face as well and fervently hoped it wasn't as red as the one on Ron's face. He was also too shocked for words. He knew he had to do something, and soon, but what that was…his hands clenched into fists at his sides and just like that, the answer came to him. He looked back down at Hermione and saw she was blinking furiously, trying desperately not to cry again. He started towards Ron and felt her hand on his robe, tugging on it, begging him to stay with her. He shook it off and leaned over her for a moment. Harry was trying to reassure her that he had to go do something. She whispered something to him but in his rage-induced haze he couldn't hear her clearly. It sounded like "No- it's…him…my fault…please." That was all the provocation he needed. He patted Hermione clumsily on the head and then stalked over to his former best friend, who was still seated. He lifted Ron bodily out of his seat and shook him.

"YOU WANKER," he roared, and swung his fist back. He caught a glimpse of Ron's eyes just before his fist connected with the boy's jaw. They were wide and scared and Harry's fist almost faltered in its trajectory. But it connected before he could stop and his friend went flying from his hands back onto the table. Food and drink spilled every which way and then Ron looked up at him from his position on his back. He looked dazed and confused and seemed to reach a hand out to Harry. The gesture was like waving a red flag in front of a bull. Harry was on him again in a flash, beating the snot out of him in a quite literal manner. He could vaguely hear Hermione calling his name and the other students yelling "Fight, fight, fight!" He was reluctant to stop, as pounding Ron actually felt pretty good. Not that Ron knew what _Harry_ knew about the situation, but _hitting_ _Hermione_? It was too much. Harry figured Ron had this beating coming. He was pretty sure he could've beat Ron senseless if a professor hadn't entered at that moment.

In seconds it was over and someone was kneeling over Ron, checking his vitals, while Harry was being dragged backwards from the scene. Someone helped Ron sit up and his former friend immediately looked over at him. It was hard to look hurt and contrite when your face was a bloody mess, but Ron managed it. Harry almost felt sorry, but then he yelled over to him.

"This isn't over, Ron! If you ever lay a finger on Hermione again _I'll kill you!" _He barely had time to snarl the words before he heard a voice say, "That is quite enough of that, Mr. Potter." He felt someone tap his head with a wand and then everything went black.

Hermione watched the whole scene as if it was taking place in another world, another universe. She couldn't quite comprehend that her best friend was beating her other best friend to a bloody pulp because of not one, but _two _false rumors. She felt wretched in a detached sort of way. In some ways she agreed with Harry that Ron deserved no less than Harry was giving, but in others she felt almost…responsible. The second rumor _was_ her fault, after all. She hadn't bothered to correct Ginny mere hours earlier and now this had happened. A small bubble of hysteria tried to force its way up her throat, but she beat it back as viciously as Harry was beating Ron. She looked over at Malfoy in memory of that moment in the library and found he was watching the boys with a delightful, but evil, grin on his face. He looked like a kid in a candy shop. She felt another pang of guilt and Malfoy suddenly turned to look at her. Their eyes met and she found she couldn't blink, couldn't move. He had her trapped like a very small animal. _Maybe he really is a ferret, _she thought briefly, wondering if he had guessed the truth already. Malfoy wasn't stupid. He _had _to know. Why else would he be sitting there with a big shit eating grin on his face? _Oh._ That's right. He was naturally inclined towards disaster and pain. He was probably pleased that the golden trio had been pitted all against one another. _That must be it._

She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to look. It was McGonagall. She was speaking to her in a soft voice and Hermione dragged herself away from the alternate universe, where she was safe and wanted and her friends didn't try to kill each other. Over her. They had been fighting over her. Because of a rumor that she had been privy to. A rumor that she could have put an end to _easily. This really was her fault. _She suddenly lost it and buried her face in her hands, leaning into her professor and crying like the little girl she still was. McGonagall looked about, embarrassed, but helped Hermione stand and ushered her out of the hall after Ron and Harry, one arm about her shoulders protectively.

Draco watched the three being led away, the Weasel being levitated out by two witches and Potter being sedated by another and carried by Hagrid. As the mudblood had passed him, though, he felt the smile fade from his face. She looked pale, shaken and very, very scared. _What does she have to be afraid of? _Potter had come to her rescue in a most spectacular manner and the odds that anyone would chance being his second punching dummy were very slim. Her days of tormented solitude should have been over. He saw that other professors were starting to glean through the crowd of students for witnesses and he faded discretely into the background. Whatever was going on with Granger, it wasn't anything he needed to get involved in _now. _Still, on his way out of the hall his mind continued to wander back her way. He replayed the events in his mind. Ginny had yelled at Weasley about his behavior, he'd responded, she'd returned with the news of his abuse and the _rubbers _remark…_ah ha._

Draco stopped dead in his tracks and his mind worked its way furiously through all the rumors and remarks he'd heard for the past few weeks until it sorted out the one he needed. _There it is,_ he smirked. Pansy had relayed to him that Granger's roommates had played a prank on her involving rubbers…and she had ended up with Pomfrey because...? B_ecause she'd had an allergic reaction to them. _Granger was allergic to rubbers. That was it. If that was the case, the original rubbers couldn't have possibly been hers. So was any of it true, then? If it wasn't why had Granger been pretending to be the guilty party? And did Potter know all this and that was why he'd had his change of heart? Maybe…maybe it was the Weasley girl's things that had been found! After all, the items had been found under her bed, hadn't they? He felt a shiver of anticipation. He couldn't wait to rub _that _in Potter's face. Shaking his head, he stopped the flow of questions before they overwhelmed him and focused on getting to his next class. It was Defense and he was fairly certain that almost all the Gryffindors would miss it.

Wondering briefly if class would be canceled, he shelved all his thoughts on the mudblood situation and hurried down the hall. Whatever was really going on, now he really needed to see Granger. _After dinner- when she has house duties. I'll corner her and pull the truth from her then. _Draco felt the corners of his lips curl and spread upwards. Actually, this new turn of events was perfect. _Perfect._ The fact that he knew the truth made him a liability to Granger and Potter. It meant he could go blabbing the truth wherever he wanted. A liability, indeed. They'd have to- they'd have to _pay_ him! He let out a low chuckle and grinned even wider. Now, to think of what kind of payment he could demand…he felt his stomach clench itself into knots as that slow burn began once more. _No! Not that ! _The burn curled backwards from his wrath, but continued to creep through his belly. Draco sighed in defeat. He'd have to be sure and find a way of dealing with that later. Regardless, all would be dealt with soon. Perhaps not resolved, but certainly _dealt with._ Robes bloomed behind him as he all but _ran_ the rest of the way to class. His heart suddenly felt very light and giddy and Draco found he couldn't wait to confront Granger tonight. It was going to be bloody fantastic, he was certain.

**Author's Note: Wow, thanks for all the reviews! I'm glad you like it so far…I'm having so much fun with it. The _you wanker_ was especially great to write. I have a little bad news; if you've seen my profile you know I have a lot of work to do between now and Tuesday. I'm afraid I have to set this aside for a few days while I complete all that, but I promise to be back no later than Tuesday. Thank you for your patience and support during this period! **


	8. Chapter 8: Keep It In Your Pants

**Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise; all characters and ideas belong to J.K. Rowling.**

* * *

Hermione walked out of McGonagall's office slowly, chewing on the end of a piece of her hair. She ran through their conversation in her head.

"But, Professor, I didn't do anything!"

"Ms. Granger, it doesn't matter to me what you say did or did not _do,_ the fact remains that three of your best friends were involved in a very obvious, very audible, very _physical_ altercation this afternoon…_in the middle of the great hall._" McGonagall's voice held her usual perturbed, steely ring to it. She stood up and moved around her desk to stand in front of the now contrite girl. "Not only that, but it was the middle of lunch! Not even during a study hall! _Everyone in the whole of Hogwarts _knows about it now!" She blinked furiously a few times. "Ms. Granger, will you please _look_ at me while I am speaking to you!"

Hermione looked up at the professor, eyes still blurry from the cry she'd had earlier. She knew she must look awful. Puffy face, damp hair…she saw a twinge of sympathy in her professor's eyes. She looked down again glumly, knowing McGonagall only gave her the sympathy twinge when she was about to be punished.

"Ms. Granger," she began once more. "You _know_ that I am far from happy about doing this, but rules _are_ rules, after all. I'm taking points from Gryffindor- no!" she paused, watching as Hermione lifted her eyes to plead with her. "I must take them, but to make it easier on yourself don't ask me how many!" She paused again, straightened her robes a bit, and walked back behind her desk. "I don't have to tell you, I am sure, that this incident has been very damaging for your house already. I am also sure I don't need to ask you to make sure it _does not happen again._"

Hermione glanced away, then back. Was that it? She narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

McGonagall sighed. "No, of course that isn't all. Ron and Harry have detention, as do you. Ms. Weasley, well, I am afraid since she was not _directly_ involved that I cannot do anything about her. However, I do need to know what all this was about!"

This was what Hermione had been dreading. She really didn't want to explain to McGonagall about _any _of this. There was no way to make it sound good, rather, not quite so bad. She looked to her professor once more. No, she really, _really_ didn't want to explain anything. She resorted to crying again. It had gotten her out of a jam or two before.

Unfortunately, McGonagall had been prepared for the tears. She floated one of her handkerchiefs Hermione's way and relaxed into her seat some more. "I can wait, Ms. Granger," she said rather pointedly. Hermione heard her, loud and clear. She sighed and tossed her hair back over her shoulder, wiping absentmindedly at her face. Where to begin? She smirked a little. Actually, it was _how_ to begin in this case. She was sure the way she approached the story could definitely soften the blow. Taking a deep breath, she started in.

"I guess it started a few weeks after school began," she murmured tentatively. She wanted to see how her professor would react.

She didn't. React, that was. No, Minerva McGonagall sat steadfastly in her chair, waiting for her to continue. Hermione let out a shaky sigh again. Time for a different approach. She suddenly grew timid.

"Professor, do I really need to explain, well, _all _of it to you? Surely you've already _heard _most of it," she said, shifting very uncomfortably in her seat.

"I could hardly help but hear it," the professor replied steadily. "But yes, I do need you to tell me- _oh," _she stopped, her mouth forming a small but disgruntled _o._ "I see your point, Ms. Granger. Well, please, I'll spare you from telling me all the details, if you'll continue."

Hermione almost sighed in relief, but nodded shyly instead, tucking her winning smile away for another time. "Thank you, professor."

She smiled now, remembering the moment of intense relief. It had been a close call, but she'd managed. Luckily for her, McGonagall had believed her when she said none of the items had been hers, but the professor hadn't taken kindly to it when Hermione had refused to tell her which student she was covering for. Although she'd admired the girl's loyalty, she'd given her a fair talking to about taking the fall for a friend, especially when that friend was surely in need of help. Hermione had found it difficult not to laugh at that. Ginny in need of help of any sort was a laughable notion. The girl took care of herself first and foremost, even when it came to Harry. In fact, she suspected that was what part of the problem now was. Maybe if Harry would just take Ginny down off the pedestal he'd put her on and asked her out, she'd finally start behaving. McGonagall had gone easy on her, all things considered. There were worse things than serving detention with Snape, especially considering the mess she'd caused. Harry was being suspended from Quidditch for a week and he and Ron were being forced to serve detention together under Filch. She smiled and felt lucky that McGonagall liked her. Still, that cumulative 150 points taken would hurt at the end of the year. She shrugged. _Ah well,_ she thought, _like I've cared about house points for a while now._

As she closed the door to her professor's office behind her, Hermione saw the woman giving her one last parting glance before going back to her papers. She knew this wasn't over. McGonagall already didn't believe that Ron had hit her. It was only a matter of time before she figured out the truth on the rest of it. _Hopefully, everything will get taken care of and we'll all have made up by then,_ she thought. She frowned a little. She didn't know what the odds of that were, especially since she really didn't fancy having to go talk to Harry about the whole business. He'd just fly off the handle again and yell at _her _this time. _Does anyone really need to know the truth about my bruise?_

The thought crossed her mind and she jumped guiltily. No! Of course she had to tell Harry and Ginny the truth about it…_or you could let Ron suffer a bit longer,_ the voice in her head replied. What? No, no, no! There was no way she could possibly do that to him. She _liked_ Ron. Suddenly stopping in the middle of the hall, she paused to think over the question. She _did _like him, right? _He does deserve to suffer a bit, you know. Nothing too harmful. All in good fun. All in good, __**vengeful**__ fun._

Jumping again, Hermione decided she'd had quite enough of that train of thought and started to move. A hand put a stop to her movement. She looked down, puzzled at first. Had one of her friends come to talk to her after the debacle in the great hall? She suddenly realized something wasn't right. _The only two friends I still have right now are in the headmaster's office and the Gryffindor common room, respectively. _She yanked her arm away and let her gaze travel upwards. _Malfoy._ She turned and smirked at him.

"What is it now, Malfoy? Come to gloat over the fall of the golden trio?" she asked calmly. She managed to make herself sound tired and bored.

He was taken aback for a moment. Draco had dropped his original plan of confronting her after dinner and had come to find her almost as soon as Defense had let out. He'd been right about the class and all the Gryffindors had been called back to their dormitory for a talking to by the prefects. Apparently no one wanted all the ickle first years panicking that they'd not only witnessed their first fight of the year, but that it had involved the two most stalwart and loyal friends Gryffindor had ever seen. Oh, that and one of the two was Potter. He chuckled at the remembrance. Draco was certain people would be talking about that fight for _ages._ Still, it did mean that people would stop talking about Granger being a filthy, mudblood slut. Actually, he supposed the former two would stick, but the third moniker would surely be forgotten. He smirked, realized that she was already smirking, and hastily wiped it from his face. What did he care that people stopped calling her names, anyway? _That's interesting, _he thought, but drew the line. He nonchalantly placed his hand on her arm again.

She scowled at him this time, not caring if he saw how much she was bothered. She _hated _it when he touched her. _Loathed _it. Not that he touched her often, but she preferred it that way. His grip tightened as she tried to pull away again.

"So Potter stands up for you once and suddenly you can take care of yourself?" he asked, mocking her with his easy smile.

She glared at him and then turned and began walking, dragging his arm along with her. _Shit…_he yanked hard and she stopped suddenly, one foot out as if preparing to step forward. Then she toppled backwards. Curious, he watched her flail her arms for a moment as she fell. He removed his hand and stepped aside just in time. Granger landed firmly on her backside.

"Damn it, Malfoy! Stop giving me bruises or pretty soon Harry will have beat up the whole school!"

He smirked. "As if you minded his endearing display of chivalry! Admit it, Granger. You _liked _having a boy fight for you, over you."

She stood up and rubbed her rear a little more. As much as she'd been looking forward to having a good, nasty fight with him last night, she just felt tired again. _But last night I didn't think that I'd be involved in the one at lunch today._ That must be it.

"That really hurt!" she said wearily.

He nodded. "Looked as though it would. That's why I got out of the way."

Now it was her turn to smirk. "At least Harry is more of a gentleman than you will ever be, Malfoy!"

"Tut, tut, Granger. Temper, temper…I wouldn't want McGonagall to walk out of her office only to find you arguing _again."_

Malfoy knew there were a dozen things he could've said to the Potter insult, but he bit his tongue. He had more interesting things to discuss with her at the moment.

Leaning in closer to her, he whispered, "I know about the rubbers, Granger. _And _about the bruise from where the Weasel was supposed to have hit you!"

She wanted to gasp, or shout at him , or make _some _kind of scene about his knowing, but she suddenly couldn't muster up the energy. "Oh, _gods, _Malfoy. Is that the best you can do right now? My roommates have known ever since they did that to me!" It was only partly a lie, she reasoned. They had guessed at first, but then she'd decided to be all loyal and pathetic and told them it was just that they'd gotten the wrong brand. Besides, she was lying for a good cause: getting herself out this situation here, with Malfoy, wands free.

Draco, however, was having none of it. "You expect me to believe that? Your roommates are as dumb as posts. Besides, you'd defend the Weaselette to the death. I know you must've lied to them, just like you've been lying to everyone about this situation the whole time."

Hermione cringed. It was true, she had been lying from the very beginning, but somehow…she wasn't sure if she could stop now. _Especially with this Ron situation._

Noticing her moment of indecision, he came in for the kill. "You've been lying _and you like it,_" he said, voice low. She looked up at him, startled, and abruptly started to walk away down the hall. She had to get somewhere she could think. Somewhere quiet…away from the snake that was Draco Malfoy.

Without even realizing, her feet took her towards the library. Unfortunately, Malfoy was taller than her and his stride was longer. He caught up with her and started keeping pace. She sent him a few small glares.

"Can't you just leave me alone?"

He laughed. "Don't you remember what I said last night, Granger? _This isn't over._ And now that I know your secret, I think you'll agree with me."

They were just a few turns from the library now. She stopped and looked at him again. "What do you mean?" Her voice was wary.

Draco noticed the change in her demeanor. Actually, he noticed pretty much everything about her, but that was neither here nor there. There was a little pink in her cheeks from walking away from him so quickly, or from _anger_, it really could have been either. Her hair was pulled back into a messy bun, with several strands escaping down her neck and back. Her robes were disheveled from her fall, too. All she needed was a touch of pink in her lips now…_ah. _She bit on her lower lip nervously, sending a flood of red to the area. _That'll do_.

Hermione shifted nervously from foot to foot. What was he staring at her for? In fact, why was that how all their confrontations went? It wasn't anything new; they'd been staring each other down for years. It seemed like all their altercations either began or ended with him looking at her strangely- _like I've grown two heads. _No, more like she was a mouse. A mouse with two heads. She snirked, then put a hand over her mouth to hide her smile. She didn't want a repeat of last night.

With her distracting lips hidden safely under her hand, Draco snapped to. Had he really just stood there _staring _at a mudblood, thinking…well, thinking. He felt disgruntled. She did this to him _every time! _Every moment he tried to back her into a corner or put her down or have a good laugh at her expense, he ended up feeling this way. _What way?_ He rolled his eyes.

Ignoring the voice in his head, Draco moved forward, causing her to take _several_ steps back. He growled. Why did she have to do that? He wasn't going to bite her or anything. _Actually, you do bite. And you would like to bite her. _He frowned. What the hell was wrong with him? This was his moment to blackmail Granger: perfect, sweet, second to no one, princess of Gryffindor, _Granger._ he shook his head. _Wait…sweet? _Granger was far from sweet. She had a quick temper. She was rude to people she didn't like, broke the rules with Potter on a regular basis, and most of all she was incessantly _arrogant_. It was his turn to snirk.

She looked over at him, annoyed. Hermione really wanted to get to the library. She needed to _think_, not stand here and argue with a pompous, unceasingly arrogant _ass_ like Malfoy. "Well? Are you going to tell me what you mean by that?" she asked again, raising her voice a little in her annoyance.

Draco moved forward again and once more, the girl took a few steps back. Right into the wall. Surprise registered on her face and with it, a tiny amount of fear. But quick as the fear had come, it transformed itself into resolve. Draco noted her response with satisfaction and closed the distance between them. He liked the way her hatred wafted off her body.

"I am," he said slowly.

She glared up at him. He was a good six inches taller than herself, maybe more. Hermione looked down again. _Great. _Now she was looking at his chest. She stomped her foot a little, wishing he would get away from her. She didn't _like _having him this close to her. It was…_unsettling._ Made her stomach churn. Or maybe that was just left over from the terrible lunch they'd eaten.

"What's the matter, mudblood? Uncomfortable, are you?" He wasn't sure why he was provoking her instead of just getting to the point. It wasn't as though he enjoyed being that close to her either. He reached a hand up and very deliberately gave her shoulder a shove. She banged back against the wall.

"Ow! Malfoy! What the hell?"

He sneered at her response. "What's the matter, Granger? Can't take the heat when someone gets physical with you but you'll put up with rumors and lies for weeks? Are you all bark and no bite?" _Oh…_that was the wrong word to use. Now he was thinking about _her_ doing the biting. The situation quickly had the potential to become very, very bad. He kicked himself a few times mentally. She didn't notice.

Hermione glared at him and wished he would get to the point. She was tired of his staring at her, tired of being cornered and truly tired of even _thinking_ at this point. All she wanted now was to go back to her dorm and rest. Or maybe the library. No one ever seemed to bother her whenever she'd sit there and nap for a bit. In fact, as uncomfortable as the chairs were, she preferred it to her dorm at the moment. Still glaring, she made a decision. If Malfoy wanted to play games with her, she would play too. Putting a hand on his chest she shoved against him, hard. He stumbled a little bit, but he didn't really move much. _Damn._

Draco smirked. "Was that supposed to accomplish something, _mudblood?_" She made a face at him. Well, at his chest. He congratulated himself on keeping his cool because when she'd placed her hand on his chest his heart had actually skipped a beat. _Gods don't act like giddy, lovesick school boys._ Not that he was lovesick. It was interesting, really, what had happened. He wondered if it worked the other way and gave her another shove to the shoulder. She gasped a little, but when he looked at her face she was obviously in shock that he'd dared to touch her again. Loathing was the only thing he saw on her face. Draco felt bemused and , he had to admit, a tad disappointed. Since he was lost in his thoughts, it was easy to see why he stumbled backwards several steps when Granger brought both hands to his chest and pushed hard against him. He almost laughed. So she didn't even want him anywhere near her, was that it? _Fine, _Draco thought. _I can play that game._

"I think you're forgetting that I'm the one holding the cards here, Granger," he muttered nastily at her. She was brushing off her shoulder from where he'd touched her, as if _he _was the dirty one, the _impure_ one. It made him unreasonably angry and he walked back to her quickly, grabbing her by both shoulders this time and putting her up against the wall. She looked up at him defiantly.

"Then please, _by all means, _tell me what you want!" she hissed angrily.

He pulled back a little and shook his head. "You're pathetic, Granger. You must go looking for the kind of trouble you're in, because I've never seen someone willingly put up with the kind of crap you're putting up with right now."

She sneered at him. "Then why don't you end the cycle and let me go?"

He shrugged, ignoring her sarcasm. "It's not in my nature." His eyes began to glitter and his grip on her tightened. "Now, about your secret…"

"I've been waiting for you to tell me what's going on in that rodent brain of yours for several minutes now! If you'd just-," she stopped talking as she saw his face growing darker and darker. Storm clouds were coming in behind his grey eyes and she wasn't sure she wanted them to break over her.

"_Fine,_" he replied slowly and softly. "I'll keep your secret, Granger, if you'll give me something in return."

"How do you know I want to keep it a secret?" she asked.

"I don't know for certain about the bruise I gave you," he replied honestly. "But I do know that you'll want to keep it quiet about your little girl friend."

She stood there speechless. It was true, she didn't know what she would do about the second rumor, but she did want to keep the truth about Ginny from getting out. As selfish as her friend was being, Ginny _was _still her friend. She tried to shake him off but his hands felt like iron on her shoulders. He wasn't so snake like anymore…_more like a pit bull_, she thought. She was careful to keep her laughter inside and met his eyes again. They were still stormy. Biting her lower lip again, she began to feel afraid and looked away.

Draco watched her nibble on her lip again and the feeling in his stomach returned. Why did _that_ have to rear its ugly head now? His breathing grew shallow as he struggled with it. _Tell her_, he thought. _Tell her your plans for her. In exchange for keeping her secret._ His mind clouded over as he watched her chew on that lower lip, flooding it with blood that he _knew _was pulsing just under the surface of her skin. _What plans_, he asked himself. Did he even remember what he was going to demand of her, or had he just rushed up here to see her without a plan? _Oh, gods,_ he _had. _Without a thought in the world to what he was going to do or say he'd rushed straight into the situation. Who did he think he was, Harry Potter? _Well, no time like the present. _He tried to stop himself at first, but it was as though he couldn't help it. Without a second thought, he lowered his head and placed his lips over hers. He felt both horrified at what he was doing and exhilarated at the same time. Who knew mudbloods had such nice lips? Tender, warm…

Hermione hadn't even been paying attention for the last moment or two. That's how he was able to kiss her without her kneeing him in the groin first. Well, that's what she told herself, anyhow. She was still being held in his vice like grip and her head was up against a wall. Hermione would tell herself later that was why it took her so long to get free. As it was, she waited a whole ten seconds before kneeing him in the groin. Lord, but for those ten seconds his lips were warm, a little chapped from the growing chill in the air, and they were nuzzling her own mouth with some success. That, however, was as far as it went. Her knee went up and caught his jewels firmly. He immediately let go of her and fell back in pain. She let him. _Serves him right for…for…_her thoughts babbled around in her mind incoherently. _Oh, hell._

"If that's what you had in mind for payment, you can forget about it right now, Malfoy!" she practically shouted. He looked up at her, face drawn up in pain, tears in his eyes.

"Merlin, Granger! Do you think I _wanted _to end up on the floor?"

She paused in her rant. That was true. "So…you didn't…_don't_ want that sort of thing?"

"No, no," he gasped in pain. "As if I'd ever want a filthy little-," he stopped as she knelt beside him with her wand at his head.

"I don't think you are in any position to insult me, _cockroach_." She was smiling inside. Gleefully, even. It had been a long time since she'd gotten to do something like that to Malfoy and it felt good. Reassured that they still held a mutual contempt for one another, she stood again and began walking away.

"Let me know when you think of what you want from me," she tossed over her shoulder.

"Granger!" he yelled. She didn't turn around. Draco laid his head back to the floor and continued to cradle his privates through his robes. _Merlin_! He would be damned if he let Granger get the better of him ever again.

"Having trouble keeping it in your pants, Malfoy?" a familiar voice said and he looked up. It was Potter. _Gods! _Draco wondered if his day could get any worse. He almost smiled at that. _Gods don't have worse days. _Maybe he was not a god, after all.

* * *

**Author's Note: Well, that happened a bit sooner than I was intending, but it will probably take them a little while to recover from this initial encounter. Don't get too excited. As much as I like the D/Hr ship, he really is a mean boy. : )**


	9. Chapter 9: Conflict, no Resolution

**Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise; all characters and ideas belong to J.K. Rowling.**

* * *

Harry looked down at Draco with a strange look on his face. He was certain he'd just seen Hermione retreating quickly down the hall. He felt anger bubbling in side him, but tried to calm himself. That last thing he needed now was to get into another fight. He already had to serve detention with _Ron._ That thought alone made his blood boil. Pushing back some of the hair from his eyes, he nudged Malfoy with his foot. 

"Was that Hermione I just saw running away from you?"

Draco stilled in his spot on the floor. He looked up to Potter. So the boy wonder hadn't seen his disgusting display of weakness. _Thank Merlin._ He rolled over onto his side and pushed himself to his feet. Draco leaned against the nearby wall, knees bent a little, still trying to hold himself as inconspicuously as possible.

"Does it matter?" he replied through gritted teeth.

Harry raised an eyebrow and then set his face into a frown. He took a step forward. "What did you try, Malfoy?"

Draco shook his head and managed a weak laugh. "More like what she tried, Potter. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to go piss blood for a week." With that, he turned and began to walk away as casually as he could manage. "By the way, _Potter_," he said as he passed his rival, "thank Granger for me."

Harry turned and stared after him. _Keep cool…it's not worth it. _Shaking his head, he stalked off after Hermione. Strange things were happening all around him, it seemed. He chuckled a bit at that. Things were _always _strange at Hogwarts, weren't they?

* * *

The next day was bright and brisk. The chill in the air had grown deeper and a first frost had painted the landscape of Hogwarts with a sheer layer of glittering ice. It was a beautiful day for late October, really, and everyone was excited to see their breath puff out in front of them as they walked to and from classes. The buzz in the air was excitement about the upcoming Halloween feast and what that entailed. They'd been promised a celebration of the highest order this year. After all that the students had suffered for the last few years, Dumbledore had decided they could all do with a bit of extra cheer. What had caught everyone's attention about this Halloween especially was that it wasn't just a feast. The night was being turned into some kind of carnival evening with games, prizes and even a kind of dance to top off the activities. Now that their celebration was only a day away, all the students were in a tizzy about who was going with whom, what to wear and did anyone know who Harry Potter was going with yet? 

All this would have been well and good, except that after Harry had so violently made his opinion clear yesterday, all the people asking that question were running to Hermione. Suddenly all past transgressions were forgotten; all rumors were disbelieved and Hermione was once again the Gryffindor princess. The kind, no-nonsense mother of the dorm who was at least liked, if not loved, by all.

Hermione hated it.

For weeks, months actually, all she'd wanted was for people to see the truth and stop being idiots. Now that they had, she realized just how shallow they'd all been in the first place. Just because Harry had decided to support her- _why had he come to his senses, anyway- _they'd all decided they'd better be nice to her. That wasn't how she wanted it to happen! Yes, it was nice that she'd gotten through her first morning where people had actually sat next to her for breakfast; no one had tried tripping her yet and that was very good. But the looks on their faces were insincere. So now she had fake friends. It was almost worse than having them treat her like crap. _It's revolting, _she thought, but suddenly realized she wasn't much better than them at this point. _How can I tell the truth? _Her stomach had been churning ever since her confrontation with Malfoy yesterday afternoon. It was not an easy question to answer.

_If I was doing the right thing…_but that was as far as she'd go with that line of reasoning. Somehow, she couldn't bring herself to just do the right thing, make the moral choice, the ethical decision. It was the first time in her life that Hermione had ever felt conflicted about telling the truth, especially to her friends. She knew it wasn't really that she didn't know what the proper thing to do was. No, it was fear of the consequences that kept her from admitting the truth. She'd already spent over half of the first semester _alienated_ from all of her friends and companions. Now she knew that once she told Harry and Ginny the truth about Malfoy being the source of her bruise, she'd face additional weeks of isolation, being ostracized. Was it possible? Was Malfoy right about her…_liking _the lies? No, no! There was no way that was the truth! If there was any truth to be found in this whole fucked up situation it was that she wasn't sleeping, hadn't gotten enough sleep in weeks, and had stayed up until all hours last night because she _didn't know what to do. _For once, Hermione didn't have the answer. The reality of it hit home and she shook her head and moaned, shoving her hands into her hair.

"Having problems, Ms. Granger?" came the soft, but dangerous, voice of Severus Snape.

Hermione practically jumped from her seat, jostling the table her Potions effects were standing on. She watched in horror as her cauldron tipped over and spilled a bright yellow liquid across the table, onto her papers, and dripped to the floor into a little pool at her feet. While the Gryffindors kept their noses to their cauldrons either out of respect for her or fear of Snape, the Slytherins all turned to watch. A low murmur rippled through the class and Hermione felt her ears start to burn. She looked back up at Snape, who was watching her with a predatory half smile.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Ms. Granger, for not being more careful. Now clean this mess up and get on with your work."

She waited until his back was turned and then stuck her tongue out. She heard a student begin to laugh quietly.

"Nice going, _mudblood," _his voice hissed in her direction. She whirled about, ignoring the slowly spreading puddle.

"You want to say that louder, _ferret?"_

Malfoy smirked at her. "So not only are you lousy at taming that mop of hair, you can't even keep yourself clean in class anymore. I should've known a stupid mudblood like yourself wouldn't be any good at maintaining herself in a _ladylike_ manner," he sneered.

Snape turned around again. "Mr. Malfoy! Ms. Granger! That is enough! Ten more points…_each. _And you, Mr. Malfoy, may serve your detention with Ms. Granger._"_

Malfoy narrowed his eyes. What was wrong with Snape? "Professor Snape," he started, "I haven't done anything!"

Snape scowled at him. "I heard your language, Mr. Malfoy. You know the rules, you've broken them enough times yourself. My Potions class is not the place for some silly schoolyard battle. Now get back to work!" he snapped and returned to his desk. Any discussion was clearly over.

Hermione stayed in place, staring at Malfoy unbelievingly. He glared back at her, his own disbelief and anger obvious. Great, she thought, _now I'm stuck in my detention with Snape _and _Malfoy._ She wondered what had possessed him to engage her like that during class. He didn't normally. No, usually he would stay as far from her as possible and, well, _ignore _her. Discounting all the times she'd caught him boring holes into her back with his eyes. He seemed fond enough of that as a scare tactic. Not that it ever worked. Hermione knew well enough to return the favor at this point and ignore him, too. In fact, she couldn't remember a single time when he'd caught _her _staring at _him. _No, it was always the other way around. Hermione shrugged and knelt down to clean up the mess she'd made. She was glad that the yellow liquid she had to sop up wasn't some horrible burning or melting potion. Imagining what Snape would do if he had a hole in the middle of his floor, she felt herself smiling a tad. _He'd probably use it as an oubliette for students who got on his nerves. _She paused to consider that. _It's a good thing he doesn't have one…Harry would have become The Boy Who Was Forgotten. _Snickering to herself,she continued to wipe down the floor and table. If she didn't hurry, Hermione knew she'd be late to her next class.

Draco watched her from the corner of his eye as she bent down and began cleaning up her potion spill. Seeing a smile creep up her lips, he felt a pull in his stomach. He looked away from her and focused on his own potion. _Ah._ It wasn't _that_ feeling. Draco decided he felt immensely better. He was still pissed at Snape for the detention, but he supposed nothing could be done about it now. Why had he gone after her that way? He'd been much better about ignoring her in classes lately, but today it had just seemed too easy. It was always too easy to say words that hurt her, even if she pretended not to care anymore. It was too easy to find a reason to bicker with her, to insult her, to laugh _at_ her instead of _with_ her. _Actually, a better question is why you went after her __**that way**__ yesterday afternoon. _An involuntary shudder went through him at the memory of the kiss. Draco knew that was the real reason why he'd gone after today. He was upset that he'd kissed her, a muggleborn. Not only that, but afterwards, no, _before_ he'd even had a chance to pull away first, she'd taken a shot at his privates and damaged him rather severely. With not even so much as a by your leave! _You didn't exactly ask her if you could lock lips, did you?_ Well, not exactly. But she should've known what she was doing, that bitch! What else did it mean a girl wanted you to do if she was avoiding eye contact…blushing…biting her lips? Weren't those the signs she wanted something? Wasn't that what flirting was?

He stopped himself and realized that his whole experience with women had been based on Slytherin and pureblood girls. He had no concept of what life was like in the Muggle world, of how people interacted, how they started relationships. Maybe all those things that a proper pureblooded lady did to catch a man's eye were different from what an independent, intelligent, fiery and courageous Gryffindor woman did to catch a bloke's eye. _After all, look at how dismal the situation between her and the Weasel is! Why, they've known each other for years, but they're still acting like a couple of awkward, shy twelve year olds! _All the boys he knew personally received lessons, usually from a violent father or uncle, on how to act. How to act, behave, dress, even how to insult.

By the time he'd turned fourteen, Draco had already learned how to tell a girl he liked her; how to get her to confess _she _likes _you;_ how to challenge a fight; how to choose the best restaurants and even start conversations. He just couldn't believe that the rest of the world might behave differently. After all, wasn't that how he and Pansy- _Pansy! _Just when he was warming to his subject _she _broke into his thoughts. He looked about the class at her. She gave him a small smile and wave, then went back to her work. How could he forget about _her?_ He turned forward again, only to see Granger once more. The feeling in his stomach returned with force and he blanched. _Time to leave._

With a slam he closed his Potions book and shoved it roughly into his book sack. Then he quickly ladled out some of his potion, bottled it and walked up front, giving it to Snape. The man looked at him from beneath his greasy mane curiously.

"Finished already, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco nodded, shifting from one foot to the next, a bad habit he'd gotten rid of two years ago. He stopped himself and stood still. _Damn her._ Now he was forgetting his bearings.

Snape looked at the bottle and nodded. "Now, about your detention, Mr. Malfoy…be here in my class at two o'clock tomorrow afternoon. I have a very special job for you and Ms. Granger and it may take a while. Don't be late."

Draco opened his mouth to protest. "Professor, the Halloween feast is tomorrow! As a prefect, I-," he was swiftly interrupted.

"_Don't be late,_" Snape reiterated, and returned to the work on his desk. Another dismissal. Snape was ignoring him now, waiting for other students to hand in their potions.

_Fine,_ Draco thought. Spinning on his heel, he left the class quickly and quietly, pausing only to give Granger another sneer. As he left, part of him was fuming while the other part was elated. He was going to get to be alone with her again. _Tomorrow, _he sang gleefully in his head. Wait, what? He stopped just outside the door to the classroom and glanced back inside. His eyes found her small form still there on the floor, cleaning up the mess she'd made. _What the hell is wrong with you?_ But as he watched her moving about- on the floor where she _belonged_- Draco found he had no answer.

Furious and confused with himself, he left, letting the door to the class bang shut behind him.

* * *

**Author's Note: Well, this chapter went its own way. Sorry to disappoint, but take heart, bigger and better things are to come. Also, I hate to ask this of you, but I need a favor. If any of you have read my oneshot, there is a poll on my profile concerning it. If you wouldn't mind humoring me and taking it, I'd appreciate that. Thank you!**


	10. Chapter 10: The Truth Outs

**Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise; all characters and ideas belong to J.K. Rowling.**

* * *

Hermione awoke with a start when someone jabbed her in the side. She looked up quickly, worried that someone might've seen her sleeping. Oh, wait. It was History of Magic, the dullest class at Hogwarts. _Everyone _slept through it. _Everyone except me_. Hermione felt a little put out with herself, but knew that with the lack of sleep she'd been getting lately, it was a wonder she wasn't falling asleep in all her classes. Still, it was bad enough that she'd been late to class because Snape had made her stay after. On top of that, she hadn't completed her potion and was going to get a poor score for the day. That's when he'd had the gall to tell her she might be required to miss part of the feast preparations because of her detention. That just about tore it, really, but what could she have done? _Dumped him in his own oubliette._ The thought made her smile a little and she looked over to Harry, who'd poked her.

"What is it?" she asked, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

Harry smiled back at her fondly and gestured to the classroom. "Class is over. Everyone's gone, probably to dinner."

"_What?_" Hermione looked about herself more clearly and realized he was right. Even Professor Binns had gone. She looked at Harry again and smacked his arm. "Why didn't you _wake_ me?"

Harry watched her as she looked about for her books and book bag. When she couldn't find them, he held the bag up in front of her. She gaped at him in amazement. He shrugged.

"You were asleep. I know you've not gotten a lot lately, what with…well, you know. Thought you might could use the rest for a bit. I packed your things for you while you napped." When she started to sniffle and drew him into a tight hug, he felt his face flush a bit. "There didn't seem a point in waking you," he murmured around a mouthful of her hair. He felt her laugh against him and pull away.

"Thanks, Harry," she said, almost shyly. She reached for her bag, but Harry took it, his own already on his shoulders.

"No, I'll carry it, Hermione," he said. He gestured towards the door and after a moment's hesitation she stood up.

On her way out the door, Harry behind her, she paused and turned to him. "Harry," she began, "you _never_ carry my bag. What's going on?"

He shifted from foot to foot nervously under her questioning gaze. She was always so honest and, well, _right_ about everything she did that he didn't know how to say what he meant without seeming like a coward.

Her gaze never faltered and he looked at her once more. He decided to be direct. "I feel bad. About everything." He saw her open her mouth as though to speak and rushed forward with his words. "I know that carrying your bag once and sitting next to you at every meal and pounding Ron won't ever really make up for the way I mistrusted you, the way I treated you the last two months. But if it means I have to carry your bag every day until we graduate, I will. I know you haven't really forgiven me yet and that's okay. And I know you're hurt and confused at how people are treating you now, after yesterday." He paused and Hermione broke in.

"Harry, I have forgiven you!" Hermione protested, but he shook his head.

"You haven't," he said, a sad smile on his face. "But I'm pretty sure that you will someday. I just have to prove that I'm a real friend. The way you've been my real friend all this time."

Hermione didn't know quite what to say. It was true, she hadn't really forgiven _any _of them yet. Still, Harry's behavior now was enough to make her cry again. She still didn't know what had made him change his mind, but she was willing to give him a chance. No matter what he did, no matter how angry he made her, when he said he was sorry he meant it. She sighed, knowing that she'd always have a soft spot for the git.

"Oh, Harry," she said softly, brushing her sleeve across her face. He gave her a small, goofy grin and stuck out his arm.

"To dinner. Shall we, milady?" He asked in a somewhat strangled voice.

Hermione laughed and nodded. Placing her hands on his arm, they walked from the now darkened room together and headed for the great hall.

* * *

Draco didn't eat much for dinner that evening; he hadn't been very hungry. Somehow the feeling in his stomach had stuck with him through the rest of his classes and had just grown, if it was even possible, _worse._ In fact, his body was responding in ways he didn't know how to easily combat. Right now, Pansy was shoveling more food on his plate. She certainly hadn't been shoveling it on her _own _plate, he'd noticed.

"Here, maybe you'd like some of this, Draco. Come on, just try a little, please?"

He looked down at his plate and gagged. He didn't know what the house elves were preparing for the feast tomorrow, but it had better be good. Tonight's dinner looked like a repeat performance of yesterday's lunch. He perked up a bit at that thought. It _would _be fun if Potter got in another fight tonight. Draco looked over his shoulder at the Gryffindor table and spotted Ron, whose face was bruised. He was sitting alone at the table, receiving the treatment he'd been dolling out the last several weeks. Draco snickered and turned back around. He hadn't seen Granger or Potter. The little Weasel had been seated with some of her friends, many seats down from her brother. She'd been making nice to a different boy this time. _Hope Potter's not too disappointed,_ thought Draco. Although he hadn't looked that happy the last time she'd been sweet talking him, either.

Pansy continued to push food at him. "Look, Draco, there's some fresh fruit, at least. I know you like oranges, can I slice one for you?"

He nodded absentmindedly and she busily went to work. Draco hadn't been paying as much attention to her the last couple of days and while she wasn't worried, she did want to keep his affection alive. Although he had waved to her in Potions today, right after that embarrassing display of temper. She giggled a little at the thought and placed the finished product on a new plate, waving his old one away.

"There," she said, and watched happily as he looked down, patted her hand in thanks and began to eat the pieces.

"Thanks, Pansy," he muttered around a slice and was rewarded with a brilliant smile. _Well, as brilliant as Pansy's smile can be_.In reality, she wasn't bad looking. She was nice, well, to _him_ at least, and relatively intelligent. Okay, comparatively intelligent, say, to Crabbe._ She listens to me, feeds me, looks out for my best interests…and her own._ Draco wasn't sure what it was that kept him from really loving her. He wasn't even sure if he believed in love. There was a time when he was a boy, when he heard fairytales and believed in princes and princesses, that he might've pretended to know what love was. But now? He looked at Pansy from the corner of his eye and watched as she chatted with her friends. Even now, after all this time with her, thinking about her, caring for her, he still couldn't bring himself to feel deeply for her. _I wonder if she knows, _he thought. _I wonder if that's good enough for her. I wonder if that's good enough for __**me**_.

Finishing the orange, he pushed his plate back and looked about himself once more. It looked as though the fruit might be the extent of his meal that evening. Shrugging, he picked up his book pack and stood up. Pansy looked up at him from her seat on the bench.

"Are you finished?" she asked. She looked a little hurt that he'd want to leave her so soon.

He managed a small smile. He really ought to treat her better. He leant over and landed a small peck on the top of her head. "Not really hungry. I'm going back to get started on my work. See you there?"

She nodded, mollified, and he started for the door. Once his back was turned she picked up some cheese and bread and began to carefully scrape the mystery bits from them. Pansy smiled to herself in relief. She'd thought he'd _never_ leave and she'd been getting very hungry. If he didn't want her to eat moldy cheese when it was the only thing available, then she wouldn't. Around him.Smiling again, she started to eat.

* * *

Just as Draco was reaching the doors from inside the great hall, Harry and Hermione were reaching them from outside.

Draco opened a door and found himself staring right at Granger and Potter. He wanted to turn and run the other way, the feeling inside him was so strong now. It was so overpowering that when she went to brush past him he almost reached out to grab her arm. If Potter hadn't been there…

Harry saw the way Malfoy twitched when Hermione walked past him. If he didn't know any better, he could've sworn the look on his face was one of…well, he didn't want to think about it. The Slytherin began to move very quickly from the scene and he decided to ignore it. He started to follow Hermione inside when a body worked its way past Hermione's and came crashing into him, grabbing his hand and pulling him back outside. His heart sunk low into his chest, so low it felt as if it were sitting in his stomach. He blanched a little, but tried to maintain a neutral face. It was Ginny. Looking over the top of her head, he spotted Hermione coming back out of the hall. She paused just outside the door and looked at the two figures.

Ginny tugged on Harry's sleeve. "Harry, you haven't talked to me in almost two days! I want to know what's wrong. Please," she asked, eyes big and brown, red hair swept back from her face appealingly. "Please tell me what's wrong."

Harry knew he shouldn't say anything, knew he should maintain the secrecy Hermione so clearly wanted. But this was Ginny. The girl he thought he cared for. His best friend- _ex _best friend's little sister. _Ginny._ He looked down at her and felt the words in his throat before he said them.

"What's wrong? _What's wrong?_ How dare you ask me that, Ginny Weasley!" Harry knew his temper had snapped again for the second time in two days and did his best to control himself. He couldn't get into another public fight, especially not with a girl. He shook his head and tried to walk past her.

Ginny stopped him again, her hand on his arm. "Harry, what is it? What have I done?" She could feel a wail building up inside her. It wasn't possible. There was no way he knew! _No, no, no!_

Harry looked down at the hand on his arm and shook it off angrily. "Yes," he said quietly, "Just what is it you _have_ done, Ginny? And when were you going to tell me about it?"

Ginny stepped back from him and shook her head. He knew! He _knew!_ Oh, gods. Her eyes glanced about wildly, looking for purchase, finding Hermione. She went dreadfully still for a moment and then flew towards the girl. "_You!"_ she shrieked. Hermione's eyes went wide and she shook her head, hands in front of her, trying to ward off Ginny's hateful scratches and slaps.

"You bitch!" Ginny yelled. "I can't believe you _told _him!"

"_Bitch?_" Hermione gasped, disbelieving. "After all this time keeping _your_ secret, putting up with the lies and taunts and _physical abuse_, you think I'd break my promise now?" Even as she was battling Ginny off, her face was white with rage. "If anyone is a bitch here, Ginny, _it's you!_"

Ginny gasped this time and started in on Hermione with renewed strength. Nothing, it seemed, was above a Weasley when faced with total defamation of character. Or not getting what they want, Hermione couldn't figure out which it was. Probably both. She tried to run away, but the girl had her cornered and was doing a pretty good job of hurting her. Hermione couldn't get to her wand because she was trying to shield her face. Ginny, however, quickly had hers out and trained on Hermione.

"It had to be you, Hermione, no one else knew!"

"It wasn't me, Ginny! I don't know what you're talking about! _It wasn't me,_" she sobbed, trying desperately to retreat from Ginny's angry advance.

Harry whipped out his wand and pointed at Ginny, ready to hex her if need be. He was seconds too late. Another voice from down the hall shouted, "Petrificus Totalus!" He heard running footsteps and turned to find Malfoy running back down the hall towards them, wand out.

The commotion had started almost as soon as he'd left the door. He'd gotten barely ten yards away when he'd heard someone shouting, then the sound of a scuffle and then Granger had begun yelling too. Draco had turned around then and started to run back. He'd reached them in time to see the Weaselette turn her wand on Granger and, without thinking, his own wand was out and he was setting a spell on Ginny. After the girl had hit the floor he'd started towards Granger, but Potter got there first. He expected to see a tearful hug, but instead was rewarded with another fight.

Harry reached a hand out to Hermione only to have her bat it away.

"Hermione, are you hurt?" he asked. Hermione laughed at him dully.

"I should have known," she muttered.

"What?"

Her head shot up and she glared at him. He backed away. "I said I should have known. I should have known that the only reason you'd start being nice to me again was if you found out the truth. You couldn't just believe me, trust me for my sake, because we're friends! No, you only came back because you found out that precious Ginny Weasley is a lying whore!"

Harry decided not to stand for that. He'd take almost every kind of abuse from her at this point, but it was really too much.

"Hermione, that's not true. I was already planning on telling Ron off when I heard you and Ginny talking. It's just that the truth made it easier…" he trailed off, realizing how lame he sounded.

"Easier? _Easier? _Since when has any of this situation been _easy?"_ she shrieked at him. "Why was the truth so important to you? Why was it more important than our friendship?!"

Harry looked up at her again. Setting his jaw, he walked back to her and took her by the arms. She tried to get away, but he held her tightly. It reminded her of the last two nights of her life. She would've given anything to have it be Malfoy rather than Harry. It was always easier to fight with someone she didn't really care about. Harry gave her a small shake.

"Look at me, Hermione. _Look at me._"

She raised her eyes to his face.

"No, it hasn't been easy for you, Hermione, and I'm sorry for that. But if I doubted you, doubted your strength of character, then you did the same thing to me and…_Ron._" She started to protest, but Harry gave her another shake. "No! It's your turn to listen to me! Sure, I should have trusted you to know you would never do anything like that, but you should have trusted me with the truth as well. I wouldn't have spread a rumor, or told your secret, or ridiculed Ginny. You _know _me, Hermione. I may not have been happy about the truth, but you could have _trusted _me. Why didn't you?"

Hermione gulped back a snide remark and Harry let her go.

"Now, do you need to see the nurse?" Hermione shook her head at him mutely. She looked like she was about to cry again and Harry folded her into a hug.

"Hermione, I might be a little upset, but I'm more angry at Ginny than anything else. Now, what do you think we should do with her?" He nudged the body on the ground a little, sending it spinning around slowly on its back. Hermione let out a small giggle and Harry looked to her, smiling sadly himself.

"It'll wear off in a minute or so," drawled a voice to their right.

Hermione looked over and saw Malfoy leaning against the wall. Her eyes narrowed and he smirked.

"If you're wondering, yes, I overheard everything."

Hermione frowned and turned away from him. If Malfoy was going to be a giant prat as usual, there was no reason to pay any attention…gods, it was bad enough he'd witnessed all of that on top of what he already knew. She'd never hear the end of it from him. She shuddered to think what he'd do with Harry's words to her. Of course, when she considered it, Harry was completely right. But hearing him talking about doing the right thing now, after everything, truly rankled. She heard him speak.

"Erm, thanks for that, Malfoy."

Hermione's head whipped back around. "_Thanks?"_ she asked, hissing.

"Well, yeah. It was Malfoy who, you know. _That."_ He nudged the body once more. It was starting to soften up.

Malfoy shrugged and stayed in place. "It was nothing, Potter. Been wanting to do that to a Weasel for a long time. Rather refreshing."

"Yeah, well, see that it doesn't happen again, _prefect._" Hermione snapped at him. To her dismay, he frowned and walked over to her. Harry's arm about her shoulders drew tighter, more protective. She shrugged it off and met Malfoy nose to nose.

"I'm not the prefect that's sent the whole school in a tizzy over a misplaced sense of loyalty, _mudblood._"

Ooo! That boy! Hermione felt her hand draw back as though to slap him, but he danced out of her way just as Harry grabbed her wrist to prevent it..

"As much as I enjoy having your hands on me, Granger, I think I'd better get going. See you in detention tomorrow!" he yelled as he sauntered off down the hall. There was almost a slight spring in his step. Knowing how ridiculous he looked, Draco stopped himself and kept walking coolly back to Slytherin. Still, he felt like whistling, he was so pleased. _Maybe princes do exist after all. Maybe I'm one. _His face broke into a smile he quickly damped down to a smirk. _Till tomorrow._

Hermione turned back to the body on the floor and Harry returned her arm. "Remember, Hermione, you've always told us it isn't worth it."

She sighed and nodded. She was just about to gesture to Ginny when she and Harry realized the body was stirring. Harry looked at her and mouthed, _dinner?_ Hermione grabbed his hand in response and they walked into the great hall, leaving a dazed Ginny outside in the hallway.

* * *

**Author's Note: I know, I'm making you all wait an awfully long time for some things. Trust me, it's better this way. **


	11. Chapter 11: Detention a la Malfoy

**Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise; all characters and ideas belong to J.K. Rowling.**

* * *

Hermione awoke early the next day, eyes tired and back aching. All the tension and stress she'd accumulated for the past two months had finally gathered to a head in the small of her back. It was painful. She tried to roll out of bed and winced. 

It was very, very painful.

Looking to the darkness outside her window, she realized it was going to be a long day. What with classes, detention, prefect duties and the feast, she wouldn't have a moment to herself. Girded with such knowledge, she rose and headed for the showers. It was best, then, that she start her morning ministrations now, while she had the space to herself. Otherwise, she knew an entire passel of girls would be flooding the bathroom as soon as the sun rose.

Hermione let the warm water wash over her, letting her back take the full force of the pounding, soothing spray. She closed her eyes and leaned into the spray. It was so peaceful at this hour of the day. No one to bother her, no one to enter unbidden to her thoughts…if she was still asleep she'd be having her best dreams right about now. _Dreams!_ Her eyes snapped open at the memory of the dreams she'd had the night before. She drew air in through clenched teeth as she recalled it. The details were fuzzy; if there had been any sort of point or plot it was lost on Hermione. All she could remember was Draco Malfoy's tall and sturdy figure shaking her by her shoulders, swooping in to kiss her. It was…_revolting._ She squeezed her eyes shut again and dunked her head under the hot stream of water. Hermione wasn't sure what had happened before or after that moment in the dream, but it couldn't have been good. In fact, it must have been something very naughty indeed because she could feel the remains of her arousal even now. She gagged and soaped up, scrubbing her body down almost _viciously_. If that was the last time she ever felt turned on by Draco Malfoy, that would be enough for her. She could only attribute the dream to the events of the preceding days. She had spent what seemed like too much time quite literally in his grasp the past three days. Still…kissing and more? _Malfoy? _Yet, it was practically an escape compared to what had happened during dinner last night.

Moaning as she reached around and awkwardly washed her tender back, Hermione wished she didn't _have _memories. If her dream had been- perish the thought- almost pleasant, than her memories of last night seemed like nightmares. When she and Harry had entered the great hall after their confrontation with Ginny, they had seen every head in the hall turned towards the door, quiet as church mice because they were trying very hard to hear what was going on. Her roommates had been the first to run up to her, gushing and groveling and apologizing all over for believing the horrible rumors when all along it had been _Ginny_ who was at fault. Hermione had immediately looked to Harry, who looked as bewildered as she did. The only conclusion either of them could reach was that their argument had been audible through the doors. Really, it made sense. After all, she and Ginny had been _shouting_ at one another. The scene in the hall buzzed in her head chaotically. It had been noisy and bright and too full of fawning, idiotic people to her tastes. As quickly as she and Harry had entered they left, half the school trying to follow them. The only good thing about missing dinner was that the other half of the student body that had stayed behind had ended up in the infirmary afterwards. Luckily, Harry had been so kind as to share some of his chocolate frogs with Hermione. That had been exceptionally nice of him. Not that she was on completely good terms with him again, but things were looking up, in spite of last night.

Shaking her head, Hermione abruptly turned off the water. It was no use thinking about it, trying to sort it out. There _was _no sorting this mess out. They were all royally fucked. In spite of Hermione's best efforts, the truth had ousted itself, as it always did. Ginny had unwittingly brought down the already crumbling tower of lies and deceit. Rather, one of the towers. The other one was still standing, although Hermione could feel her own doubts digging away at the mortar, one spoonful at a time.

Stepping from the shower, she carefully dried herself off and quickly covered up with clothes. It wasn't that she was a prude, but after last night's dream…well, she didn't want to be alone with herself anymore than was necessary. Twisting her drying hair up and out of her face, she considered the dream a little closer. Now that she was properly awake, things really didn't seem so bad. After all, it was only a dream. Why shouldn't she be able to sit down and think on it rationally? For instance, she had been extremely tired and stressed lately (as her back so insistently reminded her) and sometimes that led to…well, those sorts of dreams. After all, they were a natural escape and wasn't sex supposed to be some cosmic stress reliever? She nodded, pleased with her logic so far. Of course, everyone knew that dreams employed whatever events had happened recently and were troubling one's subconscious into their plot. She snirked. _If you can call sex in a dark hallway a plot._ So that was it, then. She'd dreamed about sex with Malfoy because she was stressed out and he'd been bothering her a lot lately. Nothing new there. _Except the sex bit._

Hermione was surprised that she felt a little disappointed after her evaluation. _Disappointed at what? That there is a perfectly logical explanation to me having sex dreams about Draco Malfoy? _Shaking her head once more, she walked from her room carrying her book sack. If nothing else, she could wait for Harry down in the common room. It would be a while before he rose, and she needed to study some. She hoped fervently that the common room would be empty of life at this ungodly hour.

* * *

On the other side of Hogwarts, the hour certainly wasn't so ungodly. After all, Draco Malfoy, teenage god, was up and about. He wasn't really happy about it, but something _pressing_ had driven him from his bed to the showers in no uncertain terms. He'd gotten up even earlier than Hermione had, if that was possible. Then again, he was a god. All things were possible, weren't they? 

_Does that mean it's possible that I really am feeling this way? _He shifted uncomfortably in his seat down in the Slytherin common room. He'd been trying to convince himself for the last hour that he really didn't like Granger _that way_ and that his feelings were simply residual; they were left over from his encounter with her two nights ago. They _had _to be. Otherwise, he didn't know what he was going to do. He couldn't exactly go up to Granger and say, "Hermione, I saw you in the classroom today, as the sun came from behind the clouds, a burst of brilliant light caught your hair, it was haloed in front of me. You turned, your eyes flashed fire into my soul, I immediately read the words of Dostoevsky and Karl Marx, and in the words of Albert Schweitzer, I fancy you!" He frowned. No, that wouldn't do _at all_. It would be pretty damn funny, but he was sure he wouldn't be on the receiving end of a laugh after pulling something like that. He shuddered to think what her friends- well, just Potter- would do to him if he found out. There was no way to keep him from finding out, really, because she and Potter had almost all their classes together. And that boy had been stuck to her like glue for the last two days.

Second, there was Pansy to worry about. He cared for her- well, sort of- and she _was _his girlfriend. He didn't think he could just go after Granger without sorting things out with Pansy first. That wouldn't be fair to either of them. Wait, now he was trying to be _fair?_ And this was just a hypothetical situation! Draco groaned and put his head in his hands. His life was over. There was no doubt about it. He couldn't deny the truth forever, god or no god. For the second time in three days, he had gotten up early because of one Hermione Granger. Draco Malfoy _never _got up early because of a girl. Ever. Especially not a girl who _detested _him. He groaned again.

His life was over.

* * *

The day dragged on. Hermione did her best to avoid the stares, the apologies, the gifts, and the fawning, but she couldn't escape her classmates entirely. They followed her everywhere she went, giving her their regrets and compliments and professions of faith and trust until she wanted to curse them all. She nearly would have if Harry hadn't been there beside her. It was funny how their roles had been reversed. Now it was _him _telling _her _to keep her cool, relax. 

"It's not worth it, Hermione," he said more than once throughout the morning.

Hermione thanked Merlin that they were only having a half day of school because of the Halloween celebration that night. It meant she'd only have to put up with another couple of hours of the idiocy. For one, she knew everyone would scatter to get ready for the evening, any thoughts of Hermione banished from their minds in their need to look their best. For two, she had detention with Snape in the afternoon, where no one would try to follow her. Besides, even if anyone _did_ follow her, Snape would probably scare them off. It was the first time in her life she was actually glad to be spending time around the horrid man. _Don't forget Malfoy,_ sang a voice in her head. _Oh, gods._ She felt her knees go weak and Harry turned and gave her a funny look. She realized she'd just made a little noise. Blushing a bright pink, she looked away and continued with her notes. _How do your knees go weak when you're sitting down?_

Hermione glanced down at her notes and made another strangled noise. She glared at her notes in consternation, not caring that Harry was staring at her now, his own face flushed. She'd just written that down! Tapping her parchment, she erased the words and went on. Thank the gods that Defense was almost over. She didn't know how much more of these distractions her poor mind could take. Even after her careful examination of her dream, she'd felt the after effects almost the whole morning! It was driving her crazy. _Not that detention will be much better, _she thought, depressed. _Malfoy will be there in the flesh. Where will that leave me?_

"Augh!" she exclaimed, and shut her book with a bang. It was no use! Stupid, _stupid_ Malfoy. How dare he invade her dreams!

The rest of the class turned in their seats and looked at her like she'd just grown two heads. She glared back at them, bright pink flooding her face once more.

"Finished with the lesson, are you, Miss Granger?" Professor Jones said, her voice wafting over to Hermione.

Hermione looked up at her and cringed inwardly. "Sorry, Professor, I was…distracted…by something I read." She swallowed hard.

"Yes, Miss Granger, we all know how _distracted _you've been lately."

Hermione felt the flush creeping even higher on her face, if it was possible. Her professor laughed and patted her on the back.

"Come on, Miss Granger. It's okay. No need to look so scared." She turned away and clapped her hands. "Alright, class! Remember to do your homework for next Tuesday and be practicing your counter curses!" She waved a hand over her head. "Class dismissed!"

Hermione sighed in relief and Harry looked at her strangely again. "Are you okay, Hermione?" he asked softly.

She looked over at him as she shoved her books into her bag, hoping the answer wasn't written clearly on her face. "Sure," she replied evenly. "Why wouldn't I be?" It was sort of true, anyway. Her back had stopped hurting after she'd been to see Madame Pomfrey earlier that morning. She knew as she looked at him though, that wasn't what he'd meant. She hoped he hadn't been reading her notes.

"Alright," he murmured, grabbing his own bag and ushering her out of the class. He wasn't going to press the issue. Hermione would talk to him when she was ready to.

As they left the class, Hermione's prediction was right. All the students were heading back to their respective dormitories, eager to prepare for the evening ahead. Hermione smiled for the first time that day. Harry looked over at her as they strolled down the hallway, free from unwanted attention.

"Er, Hermione?"

"Yes?" she asked, eyes locked on the book she was holding.

"What are you doing tonight, after your detention? I mean, you are coming to the feast, right?"

Hermione stopped walking and looked up from her book. "Well, I hadn't really thought about it. I kind of have to attend, at least for a little bit. I am a prefect, after all."

Harry nodded and they started walking again.

"Do you want to go together?"

Hermione squeaked and dropped the book this time. She hastened to pick it up, but Harry was faster. He looked at her closely as he handed it back.

"As friends, I mean. It would give us some solidarity, right?"

Hermione felt her rapidly beating heart begin to slow down. "Yeah, I mean, yes. Of course it would, that's a great idea, Harry."

He smiled at her and she felt guilty. Seeing her face fall, he asked, "What's wrong?"

_What's wrong? What's **wrong?**_ Hermione wanted to scream in frustration. "What about, you know…," she mumbled.

"Oh," he replied, a little startled. He hadn't thought she'd let that bother her. "Ron and Ginny can go jump in the moat. Is that the right answer?"

She wanted to shake her head, but felt herself nod instead. Screw Ron and Ginny. For once, she wanted to think of no one but herself and _be happy _doing it!

"Good," Harry said with finality. "I'll wait for you in the common room. I won't go to the feast until you get back, okay? I know Snape has a tendency to make people late when there's any sort of fun to be had."

Hermione nodded again and then watched him as he turned and went back towards Gryffindor. She felt _almost _happy. Deciding that was close enough for now, she pushed open the door of the Potions room and entered. Malfoy was already there at a desk, waiting for Snape to arrive. He turned when he heard her close the door.

"Well, well, if it isn't Hermione Granger, mudblood extraordinaire. Come to help a lowly pureblood like myself with my Potions work?"

Hermione harrumphed and took a seat across the room from him. She really didn't want to be anywhere near the git. Or maybe it was that she couldn't afford to be anywhere near him. There was no telling, really. Could've been either emotion springing from her heart at that moment. Liking someone, hating them…it was all much the same. Luckily she didn't have to respond to him because Snape swept into the class at that moment.

"Glad you both bothered to show up. Ms. Granger, Mr. Malfoy…today I need you two to brew three potions for me. The headmaster, in his infinite-," Snape snorted derisively, "-wisdom has asked for them to be ready for the carnival this evening. I, of course, couldn't be bothered with such a menial and time-consuming task, so I'm most grateful the two of you had the stupidity to get detentions this week."

Hermione rolled her eyes and sat back in her seat. It looked like it was going to be a very long afternoon.

After Snape left them with the ingredients and instructions and a final warning that he would just be in his office next door and was leaving the door open, Malfoy and Hermione stood up.

"I'll gather the ingredients," Malfoy volunteered.

Hermione looked at him strangely. "I can do it just fine, thanks," she replied haughtily.

Malfoy glared at her. "I'm a boy. I can carry more than you, reach the upper shelves and am stronger than you. _I'll get the ingredients._" His voice brokered no arguments and Hermione glared back at him.

"Fine, go get them then. I don't want to have to look at your face any longer anyhow."

It was Malfoy's turn to harrumph and he spun on his heel, walking over to the Potions closet. He disappeared inside and Hermione got to work setting up: starting up the cauldron and adding the basics, like water. It wasn't that she didn't like the way his face looked…in fact, it was almost attractive. She burned her finger on the flames and winced. Okay, it _was _attractive. She glared at the cauldron and sucked on her stinging index finger. Stupid, _stupid _Malfoy.

Once inside the closet, Draco immediately moved out of sight of the room. He left the door open, not wanting to raise any suspicion. As soon as he was out of sight he leaned up against a shelf and slid to the floor, groaning. He couldn't _do_ this! He couldn't be in the same room with her, alone, Snape or no Snape, and keep his hands off her, even if it was to throttle her for worming her way into his head. He hesitated to say _heart_ because he wasn't always sure that he had one. Besides, he was pretty sure she'd be the one throttling him if she knew he was even thinking about her _that _way. _She __**hates **__me, _he thought. _She'd hate me even more if she knew I'd give anything to know what color her knickers are- MERLIN!_ _Stop it, _he commanded himself, but it was too late. The image of Granger in naught but her knickers, whatever they might look like, was burned firmly in his mind. Draco brought his head forward and then sent it backwards into the shelf behind him. It hit the wood nicely and he repeated the motion. Yes, just what he needed for being such a stupid, _stupid_…

Hermione looked up from the cauldron upon hearing a soft thudding noise. She'd been reading the instructions, still nursing her injured finger. What was going on? It sounded like it was coming from the closet. She turned and looked at the open door. Malfoy was no where in sight. _Funny,_ she thought. He was taking an awfully long time to get the ingredients. Maybe he needed help after all, or spilled something, or…well, it was worth investigating, anyway. _Ah. _Her eyes fell on the piece of paper still sitting on the table. The ingredients list. Laughing a little, she reached for it. _He's going to need this, _she thought. _Better take it to him. _She got up and began to walk towards the closet. Upon reaching its entrance, she poked her head in the door. Gods, it was a mess in there! She wrinkled up her nose and took a tentative step inside.

"Malfoy?" she called out, listening for him.

From behind the third row of shelves, Draco stiffened and stopped knocking his head against the shelf. It was _her._ Oh, Merlin. He jumped up from the floor and brushed off his robes. _Mustn't let her take me by surprise, _he reasoned, and moved out from behind the shelving.

"What is it now, _mudblood?_"

Granger stepped forward and shoved the list at him. "Excuse me, Malfoy! I just saw you'd left this behind. Thought it might be _useful._"

Instead of just taking the piece of paper, he caught her hand and carefully extracted the list from her grasp. Granger twisted her arm about, trying to get him to release her. Sneering in return, he inspected the paper, not letting go of her wrist. If anything, he gripped it tighter. Her skin was smooth and soft and he knew he was probably bruising it, but he didn't want to stop touching her, couldn't, in fact.

"Ow! Malfoy, let go of me," she complained. He looked up at her and yanked on her wrist, pulling her closer to him.

"Making fun of me, are you?" The burning in his abdomen was so strong now, he didn't know why he was still touching her, prolonging the sensation. The feeling almost _hurt. _It would be best if he let go of her and ran screaming in the opposite direction. Nothing good could happen if he stayed with her, here, in the shadowy Potions closet.

Hermione shook her head violently. The movement released her hair from the simple twist she'd knotted it into this morning, sending it tumbling down her shoulders. _Gods, _she had to get away from him. As if reading her thoughts and wanting nothing better than to torture her all the more, Malfoy pulled her up against him. He dropped the ingredients list and it fluttered to the floor of the closet to lay there, forgotten. She felt herself trembling. What was he doing? What was he _thinking? _He couldn't _possibly _be thinking clearly, not since he was placing his free hand on the side of her face, his thumb caressing her cheek. _Oh, Merlin, _she thought. It was just like her dream. Not that she'd dreamed about sex with Malfoy in the Potions closet, but the _feelings_ he was evoking in her werethe same.

"M- Malfoy? What are you doing?" The last part came out in a rush of warm air, barely audible, and it blew his bangs back from his face a bit. She watched his eyes glaze over.

"I really have no clue, Granger," he replied hoarsely, and then covered her lips with his own.

_They're softer and, ah, moister than last time_, she thought, feeling his lips move over hers. _And very, very gentle_...no! This wasn't the time to be analyzing what Malfoy's lips felt like! Hermione began to pull away, trying to take her wrist with her, but Malfoy's grip tightened and he clutched her hand to his chest. His other hand left her face and he snaked his arm about her shoulders, holding her firmly to him, keeping her there in spite of his own trembling. Hermione could feel him shaking as well and she squirmed within his arms. He groaned through his kiss and dragged her backwards, deeper into the closet. Leaning her back against a shelf, he finally pulled away for a moment.

His mouth was partly open, panting for air. Hermione turned her head away for a moment and then looked back at him.

"What," she began to say, sounding almost frightened, "did you have to do _that _for?"

Draco's eyes focused and he looked down at her. _Merlin. _What _did _he do that for? He racked his brain for answers. _Because I'm a fool? Stupid? Completely mental? _Oh, yes. Now he remembered. In answer, he leaned forward again and once more caught her lips beneath his.

Hermione squirmed a bit more, garnering another moan from Malfoy. She smirked. She was really starting to enjoy- _WHAT? _Hermione gave a little gasp into his mouth and he immediately took advantage of it. His tongue found hers and now it was _her _turn to moan. _No! _This was _Malfoy, _the boy she detested, the boy who constantly mocked her and her friends. The boy who kissed her two nights ago… She felt the fingers of the hand that was clutching her own open slightly. She tried to tug her hand away but only succeeded in bringing his hand over to rest on her chest. His fingers curled down, brushing lightly over her breasts. Hermione shivered even as her eyes snapped wide open. What did he think was going on here? She bit down hard on his lower lip.

Draco growled at her, but he didn't let her go. Lifting his head, he could feel blood trickle from his lip. A few wayward drops found their way into his mouth and he licked his lip.

"Don't you know how to have fun, Granger?"

She glowered at him.

"Merlin, Granger." Draco chuckled and shook his head a bit, then started to lower his mouth to hers again.

The angry muggleborn turned her face away. "I'm not kissing you when your lip is all bloody!"

At that, Draco laughed out loud. "But you will kiss me if I clean it up?"

Granger's face turned bright pink and she tried once more to yank her hand free. Her other arm was still crushed up against his body. "You know what I mean, _ferret!"_

_Ah. _Maybe he'd been mistaken. Her detestation seemed convincing enough, on the surface of things. But he had to wonder how it would hold up under another one of those kisses. She might even be thinking the same thing, seeing as she was trying very hard to break free. To get away from him as quickly as possible. To _retreat_. "You're awfully cute when you're mad, Granger," Draco drawled.

This time when she struggled, he let her go. She leaned against a shelf, massaging her wrist. He watched her carefully and raised a hand to his own lip. Pulling it back to inspect the damage, he decided it wasn't irreparable. He licked his lip again and brought a sleeve up to daub at the injury.

Hermione opened her mouth as if to speak, but just then footsteps sounded at the door of the closet. The star-crossed enemies stiffened in response and looked to each other, then away. One in confused anger and the other in shame. They were, respectively, extremely unnatural feelings. _Then again, _thought Draco, _what about this, about __**us, **__is __natural?_

Snape's voice called out to them. "Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy. If you're gathering your ingredients, you may find the list useful."

Draco chuckled a bit and realized he'd dropped it, forgotten, on the floor of the closet this time. Granger let out a little giggle and Draco looked over at her. He left the scene first, and met the Potions professor at the door.

Hermione sighed when he left and continued to rub her wrist. What the hell was wrong with her? Letting her feelings about a dream get the better of her, not killing Malfoy for even touching her…she must be coming down with something. At least, she _hoped _she was coming down with something. _Yeah, a bad case of lusting after Draco Malfoy_. And now she was going to get caught immediately after having been in a compromising position. _Great._ She frowned at her wrist. Stupid, _stupid_ Malfoy.

Tensing, she heard Snape ask Draco where "the Granger girl" was.

"Erm, said she had to go to the bathroom, Professor. Left a couple of minutes ago."

"Ah, well, see that she's back shortly. I know you'd like to get your detention over with as soon as possible. You must be looking forward to the feast."

"Of course, Professor. I'll do that. Thank you."

When Hermione heard Snape's footsteps retreat back to his office, she walked back up to the front of the closet. Why would Malfoy be so nice to her? She snorted. Never mind. He'd just practically _assaulted _her. He had plenty of reason to be nice to her. _But did he? Assault you, that is. _Of course he did! _Yeah, you struggled a bit, but you really just wanted your hand free so you could run your fingers through his hair and wrap your hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer to you…_

"Augh!" she cried, for the second time that day. She most definitely did _not _want _any _of those things! She ran into Malfoy at the front of the closet and looked away. She heard him shifting from foot to foot. It stopped suddenly and he spoke.

"Well."

Hermione's temper broke. "Well? _Well?_ Is that all you have to say, you horrid little _cockroach?_"

Malfoy's eyes glinted a steely grey and he stepped forward. "What do you want me to say, Granger? I'm sorry I kissed you? I'm not!" He bit off the words like they were poison.

Hermione stared at him in horror. "What do you mean? Is this another one of your sick jokes?"

He sighed noisily and rolled his eyes. "No, it's not, Granger. Look, just shut up and forget about it. I need to get out of here. This room is stifling."

She reached out and grabbed his arm as he left to go to the work table. "I asked you what you meant, Malfoy. You can't just kiss a girl like that and then not bloody well explain yourself!"

"Fine!" he hissed. "I can't get your annoyingly attractive, mudblood arse out of my bloody mind and I've been dreaming about kissing you again ever since two nights ago!" He paused, face contorted in anger and fear. "Are you happy now, Granger?"

When she didn't say anything, just stared at him with a burgeoning look of pity on her face, he yanked his arm away and pushed the list at her. "You find them. I'll wait outside."

His pale skin was flushed and he slunk away to go sit at the table. She forced her eyes away and looked at the list. She scouted up and down the rows of ingredients in the closet and floated the bottles out to the table one by one. She felt almost guilty now for having pushed Malfoy to answer her. It was obvious how uncomfortable he was talking to her. _But he wasn't so uncomfortable kissing you, was he?_

Ignoring the voice in her head, she continued with her task. If he needed to get out of there, she had an equal need to escape. First the rumors, then Harry, now _this? _It was too much to handle all at once. Hermione felt as if she might fly apart if he even so much as _looked _at her again. She started out the door, taking deep breaths. _Calm down. It's just Malfoy, the boy you've hated since your first year. Nothing to worry over. Nothing to…_her thoughts were stopped midstream as she remembered how his lips had felt, his arms crushing her to him. She almost dropped the bottle she was floating out the door, the feeling was so strong. He sent a quick glance her way as he retrieved the last bottle. She sat down in the first available chair and set to work as well. There was no way her knees would bear her up now.

Mentally berating herself, she fervently hoped that they would pass the rest of the detention quickly and silently. _Nothing to worry over, indeed, _the voice in her head chided her.

Stupid, _stupid _Malfoy.

* * *

**Author's Note: The line that Draco thinks of when he is by himself in the common room is from Eddie Izzard in his _Dressed to Kill _tour. Not mine in any way, but I do love it.**


	12. Chapter 12: A Game, 2 or More Players

**Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise; all characters and ideas belong to J.K. Rowling.**

* * *

The remainder of the detention was painfully quiet. Hermione shifted in her seat more than once and would send furtive glances in Malfoy's direction every few minutes. He never looked up from his work. He was the one monitoring the bubbling cauldron while she chopped, ground and mashed ingredients. He watched the cauldron as if it were not only the most interesting thing he'd ever seen, but as if his life depended on it. If he did glance up at her now and then it was when she was busy watching what her hands were doing. Hermione was more than a little upset by the whole thing because that feeling of disappointment, the one that had curled about her heart when she'd analyzed her dream that morning, was making itself known once more. She felt hurt and confused. Why had he done that? Why did he have to decide he liked _her?_ Out of all the girls at Hogwarts he could've decided to go for, he'd picked the one girl that not only didn't want him- _yeah, sure-_ but that he absolutely could _never _be with! The whole thing had to be a joke. It _must _be.

There it was again- that sinking feeling of sadness and disappointment. Why did she care who he fell for, anyway? It wasn't her problem. _He _should be the one thinking about the consequences; he should be the one worrying about what he was going to do with his feelings. She shouldn't have to worry for the idiot. Besides, it wasn't as if she liked him in return. _It isn't? Really? _Hermione told the voice in her head to shut up, in no uncertain terms. She couldn't afford to waste anymore time thinking about it. She didn't _want _to spend anymore time thinking about it. So why was it still running through her mind like a broken record? Why couldn't she get the feel of his lips off of her mouth, out of her head? Hacking away at the dry roots on the table as if they were a person, her aim grew careless. She pretended the roots were a person she _hated_. _Or just someone you think you hate, _came the voice again.She made a noise of frustration and the knife landed on one her fingers. Tears welled up in her eyes and she immediately caught her hand up in her robe, letting out a little gasp of pain as she tried to staunch the blood.

Hermione started to search through her pockets for her wand one handedly when there was a movement across the table from her. Looking up, she saw a wand proffered in an outstretched hand. Hermione brought her eyes up to the face of the wand's owner. Malfoy was standing there, a bored look on his face, but his wand out and ready to heal the cut if she'd let him. She looked back down at his hand. It was long and slender and pale against the dark wood of wand and black sleeve of his robe. Her mind wandered back to the closet even as blood continued to stain her own robe. She heard a snort and looked up again.

"Merlin, Granger, are you going to do something or just stand there and bleed to death? Let me heal it!" He sounded angry and she held her finger out to him. He muttered a healing spell and the wound closed up without much difficulty. "I hardly need to tell you how awkward it would've looked for you to end up dead while I was present. Potter would crucify me," he snirked and sat back down.

Hermione looked at him curiously. "Thank you," she murmured. He only nodded curtly, refusing to look at her again. She realized he wasn't even going to reply with a "welcome," and she went back to chopping. She laughed silently at herself. Honestly, what did she expect?This was _Malfoy_, after all. _Fine. If he wants to ignore me and be snide, that's just fine with me. I am certainly capable of doing the same. _The room went quiet again, aside from the occasional comment from Snape as he came around to check on their work.

Draco cast another furtive glance at Hermione. He didn't really feel bad- he wasn't sure he felt _anything, _really- calling her that, at least not in his head. After all, he'd kissed her, oh…three times, now. He figured that warranted first names. Luckily she didn't look up when he looked at her. He'd been surprisingly lucky with that all afternoon so far. Usually when he looked at her for any period of time she would catch him at it and he'd have to glare at her, or worse. Not today. Today he knew she was avoiding his gaze as much as he was hers. In fact, he was pretty sure she didn't even know he'd been looking at her. _Uh oh._ He'd watched her too long. Her head started coming up from her work again and he tried to tear his eyes away too late. She met his gaze and jumped, shaking her head a bit, as if she was angry with herself. Obviously nervous, she looked away again.

Draco looked down at the cauldron once more. Maybe he should let her know the first potion was finished already. After all, wasn't it just torturing them both to leave her in the dark, to pretend like the potions were taking longer than they needed to, just so he could be around her a bit more? It _was_ torture, he knew that well enough. Whether or not he could stop it was another question. For some reason it just made sense to him to take advantage of their time alone together that way. Besides, lying and duplicity never bothered _him_ any.

After another very, very long silence, Hermione spoke.

"Is that first one done yet? We really need to move on if we're going to get out of here before dinner."

Draco looked up at her quickly, then back at the potion. "No, no it isn't." In truth, it was a bright purple, just the color it was supposed to be, but she didn't need to know that. Especially as a few extra minutes over the flame wasn't going to hurt it any. Unfortunately, Draco had forgotten that Hermione was the brightest young witch of their age. She looked up from the ingredients.

"Oh, you've got to be _joking_," she said, sighing loudly. "Unless you've completely bungled it, it should have turned _five minutes _ago!" She began to move around the table to where he was sitting with the cauldron. "Here, let me take a look."

Oh, no. The last thing he needed was for her to be near him _and _discover his charade. Draco stood up quickly, just barely missing jostling the table. He reached for a bottle and snatched one up, pulling the cork.

"I, ah, think you're right. I guess I forgot what color it was supposed to be for a moment," he said in a rush as he portioned out the potion.

Hermione watched him suspiciously. It _was _the right color. _Ha! _she crowed in her head. She _knew _he was taking too long with it. Another thought suddenly hit her in the gut. _He doesn't want detention to be over._ A strange look settled on her face and she backed away, taking her seat again.

Draco finished bottling the potion and turned to her again. She looked funny, like she'd just swallowed something that didn't agree with her. He wondered if she was going to be sick.

"What's the matter? Something on my face, Granger?" he drawled as he reached for the next batch of ingredients.

"No," she replied, still watching him. "But I am worried there's something on mine."

He looked up at her again. Working hard to keep the concern from his voice, he made a face that he hoped was one of inquiry.

Hermione shook her head and looked away. "Never mind," she mumbled.

_Fine, _he thought. _I won't. See if I care. _He prepared the cauldron and started the next potion. Hermione didn't say another word, but she did watch the cauldron after that. There really wasn't much else for her to do, after all. She'd finished with the ingredients.

Draco silently cursed himself for milking the first potion too long. He could've dragged out their detention an extra hour if he'd been more careful. Instead, here he was with her staring over his shoulder, making sure he didn't take advantage of the time again. He was convinced she was onto him. _Well, you didn't exactly make it hard for her to figure you out. _That was true enough. It was difficult to convince a girl, once you'd kissed her and confessed to liking her, that you weren't taking every opportunity to be alone with her.

Well, there was no helping it now. They both knew each other's game.

The last two potions were brewed relatively quickly, mainly because now that they were onto one another, neither wanted to remain in each other's company for very long. Hermione still felt like flying apart and crying all at once and Draco, well, Draco knew that if he didn't get away from her soon, he might embarrass himself again. All these things, it turned out, required a hasty exit.

So, when Snape walked from his office to check on the two of them once more, all he found were bottles of the finished potions sitting on a table in an otherwise empty classroom. He didn't quite know what to think when he picked up the bright purple potion to inspect it. Judging from the shade, it had sat over the flame a full fifteen minutes longer than it needed to. Snape looked to the open door and wondered.

* * *

Once it was clear they'd finished, Draco had looked up from bottling the last of the potions only to find that Hermione had already grabbed her book sack and run from the room. He had been a little disappointed, but upon realizing the time himself, he too had hurried from the classroom. It was well after five thirty and the feast had begun at five o'clock. They both needed to get going so they could dress and then go down to the great hall and perform their duties as prefects. _Not to mention perform your duties as a boyfriend,_ a voice in his head reminded him. He cringed inwardly. Right. _Pansy. _She was probably at the feast already. She never waited for him when something really important was going on. He rolled his eyes while thinking of her, knowing he was really going to have to do something about her. He didn't really relish breaking up with her, but it had to be done. If there was one thing Draco would not do, it was be the guy that asks a girl out without having dealt with the old one. Then Pansy would probably want to try and work things out, which meant another three weeks of dating while he convinced her he wasn't the guy for her…but it was necessary. Especially now that Hermione knew how he felt. Especially if he was really going to pursue her. _On second thought, maybe I can just get her to come to me…_but no, that was probably less likely to happen than seeing her fail an exam. He knew, somehow, that he was fighting a losing battle. Draco sighed heavily and started up the stairs to his room. Time to change. Time to put on his evil smirk again. Time to not get the girl.

* * *

Hermione had walked from the room as quickly as she could without running, but once she'd hit the hallway she'd taken off at a sprinter's pace. She tried to convince herself she was hurrying because she needed to get changed and meet Harry, but she knew better. Her heart was beating- oh, so very, very quickly- and her mind was racing. It was all she could do to keep herself together long enough to get to the Gryffindor common room. She really didn't _need_ any of this right now! She was still trying to deal with the aftermath of everything else and now, to have a confession of- _whatever- _from _Malfoy_, no less, was so confusing, so upsetting.

Hermione was so busy railing against her own mind that she didn't even see Harry until she'd run right into him, sending them both crashing to the ground.

"Oh! Oh, Harry, I'm-," she started, but he cut her off as he disentangled his legs from hers.

"No, it's alright- I should've seen you weren't paying any attention- just going to say hello-," he stopped himself, blushing to the roots of his hair. He was only making things worse, wasn't he?

Hermione's lower lip trembled. "I know! I wasn't paying any attention at all! I'm so, so, well, you know." Hermione could feel a wail building up in her throat and she thought about how good it would feel to let everything out, to let Harry comfort her the way he always did. Instead, she extracted herself from the pile on the floor and stood up. "I'll be changed and down in a minute, alright?" Without another word she turned and dashed up the stairs to her room.

Harry stared after her for a moment and then sighed and situated himself back into a chair. _Well_, he told himself, _looks like things are going to be awkward no matter what you do._

Up in her room, Hermione was just brushing her hair after changing when she heard the door open as it had earlier that week. _Someone's got a lot of cheek,_ she thought.

"Hello, Ginny," she said loudly, hoping to scare the words from her friend's mouth. The voice that answered her back wasn't Ginny's. In fact, it wasn't even a girl.

"Hullo, Hermione," Ron's voice replied.

Hermione dropped her hair brush and screeched. She felt herself begin trembling in anger and spun about.

"You!" she shrieked. "How did you get up here? What do you think you're doing? Get out! Get OUT!" she yelled at the top of her lungs, picking up her hair brush from the floor and flinging it at him.

"Hermione, I just-," he began, but she wouldn't let him finish. Whipping out her wand, she trained it on him. His hangdog expression grew even longer and she almost felt a twinge of pity before she hexed him.

He went flying backwards, out the door and down the stairs. Hermione ran after him, shouting curses down the stairs. She thought about _actually _cursing him, but decided that, as a prefect, cursing Ron would probably be a bad idea. So she settled for swearing at him instead.

"You bloody, _miserable_ git! Don't you ever talk to me again! All of this is your fucking fault! Wanker! Why has everyone suddenly decided they like me only after you've had done with me, huh? Think Hermione is just some bookworm who doesn't mind being passed around like some _tart? _You bloody, miserable, fucking _wanker!_"

She followed his body as it rolled down the stairs and stopped on the top step, looking down at him, wand at the ready. His eye was still black from Harry's well-aimed punch and now his lip was split and his nose bleeding. He probably had a few bumps forming on his head, somewhere beneath that _loathsome_ mop of red hair. His arms were around his midsection and he was groaning in what was obviously pain. Hermione looked at her handiwork appreciatively.

"Merlin, Hermione!"

She looked up and saw Harry standing across the room, watching the whole scene. There was a look on his face, something between awe and horror, that was working itself across his mind until he found himself smiling. That's when it hit her. She suddenly began to cry: big, weepy crocodile tears. Harry crossed the room and opened his arms, but she turned and ran back up the stairs. She knew he couldn't follow her; she still wasn't sure how Ron had gotten into the girls' dormitory. _Ginny._ The name flashed into her mind and she knew her former friend had let him in. So that's how it was now. Now that Harry knew and no longer wanted her, Ginny had decided to play dirty. It was enough to make Hermione want to take her secret to the grave.

Sitting on her bed, she knew she ought to go back down, apologize, go to the feast. She didn't want to, though. Hermione had been doing what she _ought _to, what she was _supposed_ to, for so long that she suddenly just wanted to lay down and sleep for once. Skip her duties _Avoid responsibility._ She suddenly found that she _was _lying down and forced herself to sit up again, wiping her nose and drying her eyes. _Don't cry. If you cry, they win. _She stood and inspected her clothes in the mirror. _Not bad. At least you'll be mostly covered with your robes. _She shrugged those on and admired herself again.

_So what if boys have begun to like you? It's not up to you who likes you and for how long. And stop feeling so bad about this whole secret business. It's not like you ever told them he'd hurt you. People believe what they want to. Ginny **deserves **to feel guilty. Ron **deserves** to be taught a lesson about how you treat girls you like. Wait, scratch that, _she thought. _Ron deserves to be taught a lesson, period. _She twirled about and then waltzed out her door and down the steps once more. She wondered briefly if this was how Malfoy felt when he did awful, immoral things. She thought so, but decided that someday she'd have to ask him. _Someday when he doesn't want to kiss you anymore._ Yes, that would be a plus. Not that she'd minded. _WHAT?_ She shook her head and told herself to shut up. There was a feast going and the time for reflection was over. She had work to do.

Hermione glanced at the floor before she reached out to take Harry's arm. He followed her line of sight.

"Oh, he's…gone."

She looked up at Harry, saw the look on his face and decided she didn't really want to know where he'd gone to or what had happened once she'd run back upstairs.

"Okay," she replied.

"You look, erm, nice," Harry managed as he tucked her arm under his.

"You too, Harry."

Together, they exited the common room more quickly than usual and started for the great hall. The silence between them was thick, but somehow comfortable. Hermione smiled to herself as Harry tugged her arm closer. She was suddenly very, very glad for her friendship with him.

* * *

**Author's Note: This chapter seems like filler, I know, but it's setting things up for the next one (which is what every chapter should do). Certain things will be occurring at the feast and I didn't want to have to include a bunch of inner monologue and flashbacks. That would have gotten a bit confusing. Also, in case you hadn't noticed the foreshadowing, there will be some implied H/Hr later on. This story is not just about D/Hr. I don't want anyone to be unpleasantly surprised. Again, thanks for your patience and for reading! I truly appreciate your support.**


	13. Chapter 13: Nonrelationships Revealed

-1**Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise; all characters and ideas belong to J.K. Rowling. **

The great hall was brilliant: jack o'lanterns hung in a bright and starry night sky; great candelabras adorned the walls and descended from the ceiling; a slow and murky ground fog rolled across the stones beneath their feet; cobwebs and Spanish moss crept along chairs and walls alike. A raven perched at the doors of the hall, greeting students as they entered and was even charmed to call out their names. The feast itself was well worth all the waiting and horrid meals of the past two days. There was slow roasted goose and hog; the butternut squash soup was delicately seasoned with fennel and thyme; their rolls were hot, fresh and served with herbed butter; and the potatoes with sautéed onions and spinach were to die for. There was every kind of seasonal fruit imaginable: fresh apples, baked apples, apples with caramel and brown sugar! Oranges stuffed with cloves and sun dried tomatoes served with an aged to perfection balsamic vinegar. The last berries of the season: blackberry and boysenberry tarts; gooseberry muffins! A non-alcoholic white wine was being served alongside pumpkin and apple ciders, butterbeer, and hot chocolate. Even the vegetables were delectable: fresh green beans, roasted carrots with honey and candied and plain sweet potatoes- all were eaten with gusto. A thick, dark rye bread was passed about to soak up the remaining juices on their plates and many happy, satisfied students sat back to contemplate their food babies and wonder if they would need new robes before the holidays.

Draco reached the hall just before Harry and Hermione. As he walked in the raven crowed out his name and he looked out across the hall. He saw Pansy turn in her seat at the Slytherin table and wave her hand to him. As he started over towards her, he heard the raven call out another name. Actually, it was a set of names. A pair. A _couple. _It startled him so much that he turned to glance over his shoulder.

"Harry Potter and Hermione Granger!" rang a loud caw across the hall. The two were greeted with cheers from all houses except his own, after, of course, everyone adjusted to the fact they'd arrived together. Draco rolled his eyes and took a seat next to Pansy. Were all the students besides himself completely oblivious, or just willfully stupid? Anyone with eyes could've seen that Potter and Granger had been going about _everywhere_ together the last two days. Only an idiot would've been surprised they showed up to the feast together. _Wait, I'm forgetting who I'm surrounded by. _He sighed and looked over to Pansy. She glanced up at him and smiled sweetly.

"How was detention with that horrible girl?" She patted his arm sympathetically. Or condescendingly, Draco wasn't sure which, but he didn't want to start an argument, especially with the conversation he knew was coming soon. He smiled back instead and started to reach for some food, but Pansy had already filled a plate for him. She shifted it over in front of him and smiled again. There was too much food on it. He glared at it for a minute, as if willing some of the food to disappear.

"Oh, please, Draco! You haven't been eating nearly enough lately. I thought you'd like to fill up while you can!"

This time Draco glared at Pansy instead of at the plate. "I'll eat exactly how much I want to, Pansy. I don't need you mothering me!" He lowered his voice and leaned into her some, speaking in her ear. "Sorry, Pans, I'm just worn out from detention- you know Snape. It took all my willpower to not strangle Hermione, too."

He stopped, mouth still by her ear, holding her arm. He'd felt her stiffen almost immediately in response to Granger's first name. _Damn,_ he thought. _Damn, damn, damn!_

What was _wrong_ with him? How could he have made that kind of mistake _now, _in the middle of their biggest feast of the fall term?

Pansy turned her head, holding it at an odd angle as she stared at him. Her mouth worked itself into a funny shape and settled somewhere between a smile and a grimace. She spoke slowly and in a low voice. Draco needn't have feared she'd say anything to their friends; she didn't want anyone else to hear what he'd said anymore than he'd meant for her to hear him say it.

"What was that?" she whispered back.

"Erm, well, sorry about that…the only way Snape would let us serve detention was if we worked together…and she wouldn't let me work with her unless I called her by her, well, Christian name, instead of mudblood." Draco crossed his fingers and prayed. He was a good liar, but was he good enough for the likes of Pansy?

She bought it and, giving a light laugh, teased him. She still wasn't happy that the little bitch had forced him to speak civilly to her- after all, as a mudblood, what civility did she deserve- ,but she was sort of proud of him for bearing up so well under the circumstances. "What, did she have to hex you to get you to say it? Is that why it slipped now?"

Draco acted offended and rubbed his jaw in remembrance. "Hey, that's easy for you to say- you never had her land a punch on your face! I like my jaw just the way it is now, thanks very much." With that, he took his utensils and selectively began to eat some of the food on his plate.

Harry felt rather self-conscious as he entered the great hall with Hermione on his arm. He really didn't want to send the wrong impression about him and Hermione, but he also didn't loosen his grip on her hands at all. In fact, he'd put her hands there, wrapped about his arm. It made him feel good- strong, even- to be the protector of Hermione. It wasn't a position that was really new to him, but it was the first time he'd been so public about it. In fact, he felt _really_ good about it. Harry looked down at her as they walked towards the Gryffindor table. She was wearing a turquoise, cowl-necked, sweater dress beneath her robes and practical ballet flats. No heels for this girl. That made him feel good, too. It meant she was still shorter than him. Hermione was a slight girl anyway, but high heels, no matter how sexy they were, could be very intimidating. He smiled a little and decided that, for tonight at least, he could just be proud to be her friend.

If Harry felt self-conscious, Hermione felt the opposite. She felt a little trepidation at facing her fellow students after the dramatic reveal of the night before and then that afternoon's detention, but she was smart enough to realize that none of them knew what had happened that afternoon. _Why are you even thinking about what happened at detention? Why is that even important right now? _she wondered, but even as the thought was formed she knew the answer. _It made you feel good, you minx. Knowing that Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin prince, the bastard who's tormented you for five years because you're muggleborn __**wants**__**you,**__ well, that's just done you in, hasn't it? It doesn't even matter that you don't, or won't, like him back. _She realized that was true and let a little smile escape. _All that matters is that someone who isn't Ron, someone who has always tried to be so far out of your league, likes you and is doing everything he can to make it clear to you. _With that thought, her smile stretched all the way up to her eyes. She looked up at Harry, still smiling. _If he only knew, _she thought, and cackled to herself happily.

Harry looked down at her smiling face and found himself returning the smile as he ushered her into a seat. The other Gryffindors slid down to make room for them. They managed to partake of some of the meal before their evening was interrupted for the second time.

This time it was Ginny. When Hermione first saw her, she immediately looked about for Ron. Even though she knew that Harry had taken care of the problem earlier, she was sure he would show up again. Ron never did know when to stop while he was ahead.

Ginny stopped directly behind them.

"Well, hello, Harry! Hermione," she said in a bright voice. A bright, but sharp, voice.

Someone down the table threw a roll at her head. They missed, but it did cause a round of boos to be directed at her.

"Go on, Ginny! We know what you did, the way you took advantage of Hermione that way," came a call from two seats down.

"Yeah, poorly played, Ginny!" came another yell from the next table over.

Ginny's face began to turn a bright red and Hermione could see that the situation was easily going to get out of hand. She knew that regardless of how good toying with Ron and Malfoy felt, no matter how much Ginny deserved a taste of her own medicine, she needed to heed McGonagall's warning. Harry was already in trouble. She was being watched closely. If she let one more incident like that fight from the other day happen in front of her, there was no telling what McGonagall and Dumbledore might be forced to do. Well, if she was going to be a prefect and save all their asses and tell Ginny off at the same time, she decided to at least make a show of it.

Hermione pushed back from the table with a noisy sigh and stood up to face her former friend. "Yes, Ginny, what is it? Haven't you had enough fun with everyone's feelings?"

Ginny was taken aback at her blatant attack, but managed to recover quickly. "Oh, I think I have, Hermione," she said smoothly. "You certainly made it easy enough for me to have my fun though, didn't you? Imagine that! A prefect facilitating illegal behavior among underage witches. Why didn't you help me, Hermione? Why weren't you protecting me?"

The table grew quiet as her housemates waited for her response. Hermione knew they were sweating in their seats, wanting desperately to know how she could possibly come back after such a scathing and accurate attack. She decided not to let it bother her. Whatever she said didn't really matter. She was the golden girl, Ginny was not. In fact, she was pretty sure that all Ginny had on her was hair that stayed put on a regular basis and eyes that were one solid color. _In fact_, compared to Hermione, she was plain. Average. Not worth fighting with, really.

Hermione did something rather extraordinary then. She _smirked_. She smirked, tossed her hair and stared Ginny down. The bright red faded from Ginny's face until she was so pale her freckles stood out on her nose like measles.

Finally, after what seemed like minutes, Hermione spoke. Her voice was friendly, but firm and held a double-edged quality to it: the kind you didn't want to cross late at night after a trip to the kitchens for a midnight snack.

"I suppose it would seem like that to you, Ginny. Like I wasn't being a good prefect or friend. You're so good at reinterpreting the facts, you know. You must teach me the trick of it sometime," she smiled at Ginny, her teeth glinting in the candlelight. If it was possible, Ginny's face grew even more pale.

"You see," continued Hermione, careful to keep the glee from her voice, "I _was _protecting you this whole time. As long as everyone thought that I was the one in trouble, I didn't have to report you for breaking the rules. Then everything would've blown over eventually and your secret would've gone to my grave with me. Instead, " She paused, curious at what she felt. Hermione had never had a problem pointing out other people's mistakes, telling them what it is they ought to do. This time was different, though. She wasn't just correcting someone else, or defending herself: she was _gloating._ And she didn't really feel that bad about it. What, exactly, was she doing right now? Ginny was her friend…wasn't she?

_No,_ she thought. _No, that's wrong. Ginny is now my former friend. _Besides, hadn't she always had a sneaking suspicion that the only reason Ginny made friends with her in the first place was because Hermione was good friends with Harry? If Ginny wanted to hang out with Harry and Ron all the time, she had to be Hermione's friend. In fact, she'd been used the whole time she'd known the youngest Weasley. The knowledge made her feel bad and a little sick. After all, she'd still shared herself, her private feelings and thoughts, with Ginny many times. Hermione suddenly knew what she was going to do next. She took a step forward and Ginny backed up a bit.

"Instead," she continued, her voice lowered, "you jumped to conclusions and confronted Harry without even talking to me first! You ruined all my efforts to help you because you were worried about a relationship that doesn't even exist!" Hermione shook her head.

Ginny took a step forward, her face flaming red again. "Shut it, Hermione! You don't know what you're talking about! Harry and I-," she started, but Hermione spoke over her.

She cast a glance over her shoulder at all the people in the hall watching them. A smug expression on her face, she called, "There's nothing going on here, people!" Then she turned back to Ginny and lowered her voice once more. "Ginny, I'm going to have to report your behavior. I just want you to be prepared before I make my report, because while I'm sure the punishment for your original activities would have been extremely strict, now you've granted access to boys into the female dormitory when you weren't there. None of this is going to go over very well."

For the first time during their exchange, Ginny looked surprised. "But I haven't, Hermione! Not since the start of the year…," her voice trailed off and she looked around self-consciously. "Please, Hermione. You don't really need to report me, do you?"

Hermione looked down at Ginny and raised an eyebrow. "Ginny," she said coolly, "the truth is out already. I _have _to report you and it'll go better for you if I tell McGonagall before she finds out from the other students."

Ginny stared blankly at her, as if astonished that Hermione would even dream of treating her the same as the other students. Hermione maintained a slight sneer and continued to stare Ginny down until the other girl finally turned and walked away, exiting the great hall altogether.

Hermione felt her body relax and she turned back to her table and sat down. Her housemates all looked at her in awe and a few even clapped and cheered for her. She shook her head at them and they calmed down, returning to their meals. She looked over at Harry and he smiled back at her. She felt a twinge of guilt. She really was going to have to apologize to him for all of this soon. He started to pat her arm and then changed his mind, taking her free hand in his and giving a good squeeze.

"Thanks," he mouthed silently.

She smiled in return and began to eat once more. The feast would be over in no time and she didn't want to miss any of the food. Harry and Ginny were things that could be dealt with later and in that order. Still, something Ginny had said was bothering her…ah, yes. _In spite of everything, I still believe her that she hasn't let any boys into the dorm recently. That means someone else let Ron in. Which also means she's not even talking to her older brother. _Again, that twinge of guilt. Hermione reached for the wine and washed the bad taste down her throat. No use in crying over spilt milk. Time to enjoy herself.

The food disappeared within another fifteen minutes and Dumbledore stood up to announce that the carnival festivities were beginning. With another wave of his hands, he had the students on their feet and then the tables and benches followed the food into oblivion. Brightly colored booths and other activities filled the empty cavern floor of the hall. In addition to the fog that was still rolling across the stones, a new layer of soft moss and crunchy leaves now adorned the floor. A full moon peaked out from behind one of the clouds in the ceiling and the candles flickered as a chill breeze whisked about the room. The candelabras transfigured themselves into street lanterns and the light stopped flickering. Colorful banners were strung from lamp post to lamp post. There were some general ooo's and aah's of appreciation, but those quickly gave way to a busy hum as the children started to talk and laugh, giggle and shriek.

Hermione felt the hand that was holding hers pull her up away from their crowd of housemates and she turned and followed Harry.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked curiously.

Harry looked over his shoulder at her and raised his eyebrows. "Don't you want to take a spin around the carnival? Bob for apples? Predict your future husband? Capture the dragon? Or," he continued, wiggling his brows at her just a bit, "Send your most loathed professor for a dunk in some very nasty moat water?"

Hermione couldn't help but laugh. "Harry, you know I didn't want to stay that long…," she said slowly.

"Hermione." Harry stopped in his tracks and turned around to face her. He took her by the shoulders. "Not only are you a prefect, so I _know _you have to stay longer than you want to, but don't you deserve some fun tonight? Come on, I won't let anyone bother us."

She laughed again, knowing that everyone and his brother would be bothering them this evening in spite of Harry's best efforts. She nodded anyway and let him continue to lead her about. It was nice, she had to admit, to let someone else take charge for once. A boy. Who actually wanted to spend time with her. Unwittingly, her eyes sought out the lithe, pale form of Malfoy even as she and Harry headed towards the Divination booth.

Draco's eyes were doing the same. He'd witnessed the altercation with Ginny via covert glances from the Slytherin table. He didn't know what Hermione had said, though, because he'd been too busy trying to keep his girlfriend happy. _Merlin, _he thought, _you slip up once- __**once**__- and suddenly the phrase "green-eyed monster" made perfect sense. _Gods, Pansy had been all _over _him tonight. It was most distressing. Draco knew that if he was going to win over the cold- no, that wasn't right. Hermione wasn't cold, not really. She just _detested _him. It was bound to happen; if someone detests you, they treat you like crap. That was the rule, generallyand one which he knew well enough. He'd detested Hermione for so long- or had he?- that it was natural he call her names and treat her ill. Draco wasn't even sure he _enjoyed _the chase anymore. Well, at least not _that _sort of chase.

Draco turned his attention back to searching the crowd for Hermione, even as Pansy was dragging him by the arm to one or another booth. _Carnivals,_ he sneered. He hadn't been to one since he was boy, a babe in arms. His eyes found purchase and he realized that Pansy was leading him right to the booth that Potter was dragging Hermione to. Yes, dragging was the right word. In spite of her laughter, she was obviously trying to slow down Potter's progress as her eyes scanned the room…and landed on his face. Their eyes met and he watched with satisfaction as her face flushed. She turned away from him just as Pansy looked over at him.

"Oh, Draco! Potter and that awful Granger have gotten to the Divination booth before us. Ooo!" She pouted and stomped her foot. Draco looked down at her in amusement.

"What's so great about the Divination booth?" he drawled, unhooking his arm from her grip.

She grinned up at him and reattached herself. "Professor Trelawney and some seventh year divination student are taking turns predicting girl's future husbands!"

Draco couldn't help the cringe that crossed his face. Oh, _gods._ Would his trials never end? Pansy giggled when she saw the look on his face. "Oh, it won't be that bad, Draco! I _know _you like me, you silly boy. But," she paused, a frown creasing her lips, "I hardly want to go and stand in line anywhere near that _mudblood_." She tugged on Draco's arm again. "Let's go dunk that giant oaf of a professor in the moat water instead."

Draco smiled sickly in return, then cast his glance to Hermione's face once more. Startled, he blinked several times. If it was even possible, she was gazing at him again, an indecipherable expression upon her face. It was almost…thoughtful, as if she was _considering _something. _Well now, isn't that interesting?_ He winked at her, just one lid down and up quickly, a quirk of his mouth and it was gone. The flush left her face and she looked away once more, turning to say something to Potter. Damn it, he wanted to hear what she was saying. It was something to do with him, he just knew it!

For the first time that evening, _he_ tugged on _Pansy's_ hands, dragging her towards the booth to stand in line behind Potter and Hermione. Pansy gave a little squeal of surprise.

"Draco, you don't need to be so _eager,_" she crooned to him, giggling behind her hand. "Anyhow, what about Potter-," she stopped herself as Draco pulled them in right behind the boy-who-lived himself.

He leaned over and whispered to her, "_I _don't have a problem making them miserable by standing right behind them, do you? Besides," he said a little louder, "you obviously wanted to come here first. Oy, Potter!" Draco called.

Harry turned around. Hermione had warned him that Malfoy and his pet were heading their way, but he'd really hoped to avoid any arguments tonight. "What is it, Malfoy?" he sighed, rolling his eyes.

Malfoy sauntered up to him, standing nose to nose. "Pansy really wants to get into the Divination booth, Potter. Why don't you make your life a little easier and step aside?"

A hand crept up Harry's arm and gave his sleeve a small tug. His eyes flicked to the side and he barely saw Hermione give the slightest shake of her head. Harry knew she wanted nothing more than for him to leave it alone, to give up, but he couldn't. He just couldn't! Not when he'd been looking forward to spending a nice, fun evening with Hermione…alone. Er, alone as one could get when one was surrounded by the whole of Hogwarts' student body. He chuckled under his breath and grinned at Malfoy. The other boy looked unpleasantly surprised.

"Now, Malfoy, you can wait your turn. I know you must be dying to hear Trelawney predict your impending doom of marriage to," he flicked his eyes in Pansy's direction, "_that,_ but it's no reason to be so rude."

Malfoy sneered at him and took another step forward, the pug faced girl right behind him.

"Oh, yeah, Potter? And why are you so eager to be in this line yourself, hmm? I noticed your little mudblood seems less than excited to be waiting for another _false _prediction from the good Trelawney."

At that, Hermione spun about. "You're quite wrong about that, _ferret,_" she smirked at him, wrapping one slender arm about Harry's shoulders, the other down at his side, her hand in his. "I can assure you that I am just as eager to be here as Pansy is. Now why don't you shut up and leave us alone for once?"

He started to respond, angered, but Hermione shot him a look that could wither stone. "Before you say _anything _else, Malfoy, I suggest that you think about it long and hard. We are prefects, after all. It won't do for us to get into a fight _here, _during the Halloween celebration. _In front of the whole school and all our professors._" She placed extra emphasis on the last sentence and watched with satisfaction as understanding dawned on his face.

Draco looked at Hermione strangely. She had just saved him from making an ass of himself in front of his whole house. Over her, a mudblood. What had caused it? Was it pity, or…well, anyway. Enough of that. But it did make him almost…_smile_. Instead, he scowled at her and moved off with Pansy, back into the line.

Even though it was killing Draco to do so, he made conversation with the pretty, but stupid girl at his side. His eyes continued to flick towards Hermione and Potter, though. Potter had seemed triumphant when Hermione had said those things. Like he _owned_ her now, or something, just because he'd saved her from an entire semester of isolation. Draco scoffed. Whatever. Well, if he couldn't get in a verbal argument with either of them, he decided he'd settle for tormenting them the rest of the night by dogging their footsteps. If Potter and Hermione bobbed for apples or captured the dragon, well, he would too. He looked to Pansy once again. She was describing what kind of a wedding she wanted and she hadn't even gotten her prediction yet. He pasted a smirk on his face and managed to both smile and grimace down at her.

Merlin, it was going to be a long night.

**Author's Note: Yes, there will be extended chapter coverage of the carnival and ensuing dance and general fracas. Pandemonium. Internal (and external!) chaos. I'm looking forward to it, at any rate. **

**Some bad news first, though: I have exams in the coming week and _must _disembark for a short time. I truly hope to update next weekend at the absolute latest. Please forgive me this necessary evil. **


	14. Chapter 14: Evidence is the Bunk

**Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise; all characters and ideas belong to J.K. Rowling.**

* * *

The divination booth wasn't really a booth at all; it was set up like an old-fashioned circus sideshow tent. Brightly colored stripes of red, purple, green and gold ran down from its peak to the floor. One of its flaps was tied back to reveal a smoky interior, complete with crystal ball, teacups and stacks of tarot cards adorning every surface. It looked to be empty, at first, as the last girl to have a go waltzed out, a happy smile pasted across her face. The girl went to join her friends and they began giggling madly. 

Hermione stared at them curiously, her hand still in Harry's. She could feel both Harry _and_ Malfoy looking at her and it was extremely disconcerting. She half expected it from Malfoy, now that he'd revealed his feelings to her, but Harry? He was just her friend, right? He must be concerned about her, she decided, and looked back over to him, smiling. He smiled back and squeezed her hand again. Was that…was he looking at her _tenderly?_ She blinked a few times and looked forward again. What was wrong with all these boys? She looked down at herself a little self-consciously. No, her dress wasn't riding up her ass…neither of her breasts had fallen out…so what was it? _Me?_ She knew she'd changed somewhat after fourth year and the Yule ball, but that seemed like eons ago now. Sure, she'd blossomed, but she still wasn't a Fleur. Hugging her robe a little closer about herself, she looked to Harry again. He was staring forward, glasses slightly askew, hair a scruffy mess, and his fingers were wrapped tightly about her own. Hermione felt a sudden fondness fill her and she leaned over, landing a light kiss upon his cheek.

Harry turned, a blush flooding his face, his heart suddenly pounding. What was wrong with him? Hermione was just a friend…right? His mouth worked silently to find words as he stared at Hermione. "You- next!" he finally managed.

Hermione was puzzled at first, but realized he meant it was her turn to go in. She squeezed his hand. "Thanks, Harry," she smiled again, heading inside the small tent.

The space was much larger than it seemed from outside. There was a table with the crystal ball in the center, a chair on the other side and two chairs on the side facing the students as they walked in. A small wall mirror hung behind the seats for students. Crates draped with colorful cloth and stacked with the other divination supplies lined the sides of the tent and the air was cloudy from an incense burner tucked back into a corner. It was obviously Trelawney's break, because a student was seated behind the table, beckoning for Hermione to enter. She walked in, gingerly avoiding the crates, and took the more central seat, then gave a small frown as she saw who the student diviner was.

"I thought only seventh years were being allowed to take part tonight, Lavender," Hermione said haughtily.

Lavender smiled tentatively and gestured at the empty seat next to Hermione. "Didn't you have an escort? Would he like to join you?"

"No, he-," Hermione began, but stopped as Harry poked his head in the flaps.

"Is it okay, then? I'm allowed in?"

Lavender gave a giggle and, with a knowing wink to Hermione, nodded for him to come in. "Yeah, just take a seat next to Hermione. We can do a love prediction for the boys as well."

Hermione was indignant. "You still haven't answered my question," she huffed, even as Harry walked in and cautiously took the other chair.

"Oh, that! Well, the other seventh year who was supposed to take part got sick at the last minute…think it was food poisoning from the other day. Anyhow, here I am! Now give me your hands, Hermione."

Hermione muttered something under her breath, but put her hands out anyway and Lavender took them in her own, closing her eyes. Watching the other girl curiously, she asked, "What kind of magic are you using?"

Lavender opened one eye and sighed. "I'll read what sort of a future you'll have in the crystal ball and then you turn to look in the mirror behind you. It's enchanted to show what the crystal ball is seeing. We figured students wouldn't want us just blurting out who they'll marry and _some _probably wouldn't believe us if they couldn't see for themselves. Now, may I continue?"

Hermione nodded, a little embarrassed. She really didn't want Harry to be here for this. "What about Harry?" she couldn't help asking, interrupting again.

Lavender opened both eyes and glared. "He won't be able to see what's in the mirror, don't worry. Now stop talking!"

Hermione sat back in her chair, still feeling uncomfortable with the situation, but excited to see what kind of rabbit Lavender would pull out of the hat. She never had much respect for Divination, but decided that just for tonight it was okay. After all, she was here to have fun. She might get a few laughs and besides, she knew the mirror, at the very least, would tell the truth.

Lavender held her hands loosely and murmured a strange incantation. Then she laid Hermione's hands on top of the crystal ball, holding them there with her own. The ball began to grow cloudy and dark before it suddenly flashed clear and bright with light. Lavender released Hermione's hands and then gazed deeply into the orb. Her eyes flicked upwards to Hermione every now and then, but it was matter of minutes before she spoke again. When she did, her voice sounded strained.

"You will marry twice," she intoned slowly, glancing to Hermione again. Hermione felt strange when she heard the words. The light in the tent faded to darkness and Lavender spoke again. "Turn around and look in the mirror, it will show you the man you will wed." A single light above the mirror came to life, illuminating the dusty and grimy object. It hardly looked as though it would show anything, real or magical.

Slowly, Hermione turned in her seat to look into the filmy surface of the mirror. She tried to tell herself it was only a child's game, one which she had certainly played during her time as a normal muggle child. Her mother had set the game up many a time for Halloween parties with her friends from back then…still, her heart was racing as she turned and looked back.

At first, the mirror only showed her face with the room spread behind her, but then the image behind her slowly dissolved into darkness and a figure began to take shape, resolving into a smiling face, no, wait. It was scowling. Now it was smiling again. Hermione wiggled impatiently in her seat, trying to look for other discerning features. Black- _blond_ hair? No…the hair was shifting furiously from one to the other, a pair of blue…grey…green eyes stared out at her, and Hermione felt her frustration grow.

"Lavender, it's not showing me anything! Just a jumble of images-," she began, annoyed.

Lavender sighed and muttered something. The mirror suddenly cleared and the face of her best friend stared out at her. Hermione was about to turn back around, half amused and half believing that the whole thing was bollocks, when she heard Lavender's voice.

"Harry, stop looking in the mirror! You're going to ruin it!" Harry's face disappeared from the mirror as Lavender pulled him away and Hermione sucked air in through her teeth and stared, stupefied at what she was now seeing. She would know that lean frame, that smirk, that arrogant glare anywhere. She just wished she wasn't seeing it now. She turned back around quickly, her heart beating fast, her mind a jumble.

The lights in the tent popped back on and Lavender looked at Hermione speculatively. "Well, satisfied with what you saw, Hermione?"

Hermione shook her head, a little shaky and looked over at Harry. "It's a lot of nonsense; you already know what I think about all this, Lavender," she muttered just a little too quickly.

Lavender laughed. "You really have been getting up to something, haven't you?"

Hermione looked at her, panicked. "You didn't- you couldn't-," she somehow couldn't get the words out. Lavender took her meaning anyway. "I…could, but don't worry. It's an oath we take as diviners to not reveal the knowledge that is divined to any other party than that one asking for the reading." Hermione stared at her blankly, looking like a deer in the headlights. She smiled. "You secret is safe with me."

Harry looked from one to the other, confused. Hermione glanced at him again, nervous. She turned to Lavender once more. "What did you mean earlier? About my being married twice? Is one just a mistake? Can you tell me anything else? If I'm going to be married twice, then why did I only see one person in the mirror?"

"My crystal said they were both real marriages and the reason you only saw one is because the mirror only shows the person whom you are most in love with. That's all I can really tell you, I'm sorry." Lavender shrugged helplessly. Then she made a mistake. "I guess it's really over between you and Ron, then," she said, a small smile on her lips.

Hermione, who was about to stand, stopped and sat down again. "What was that?"

Lavender realized what she'd just said. "I just meant that, well, with all that's happened…he still believes you'll patch things up."

"You've been talking to him?" Hermione was outraged.

"Well, it's not like he actually hit you or anything! He's still _my_ friend, Hermione!"

"So you just believe anything he says? He treated me horridly, you know!"

"Yeah, I believe him!"

At this point, both girls were out of their chairs and Hermione was reaching for her wand. Harry jumped from his seat and grabbed hold of Hermione's arm. "Come on, Hermione. Let's just leave. I'm sure she doesn't mean it…"

"Of course I mean it!" Lavender yelled. "Stupid muggle! Ron was wonderful to-," she stopped in mid sentence as Hermione leveled her wand with Lavender's face.

"You're an idiot, Lavender," Hermione said clearly. Then she swept her free arm across the table, knocking the crystal ball off, and started from the tent. Before she left, she turned back once more. "Oh, and I suppose you're the one who let him into the girl's dormitory." She watched as Lavender nodded her head defiantly, even if she was a bit frightened.

"I'd do it again, too!"

"I'm sure you would, Lavender. Well, thanks for the prediction, even if it all bunk." She smiled strangely. "I'll be reporting you later." Hermione walked from the tent, ignoring Lavender's protestations. Harry looked to Lavender, mustered a glare, and then rushed after his date.

* * *

Outside, Hermione walked straight through the line, sending first years to the ground and jostling people from their places. She crashed into someone's chest and felt pain flood her nose. 

"Owb!" she groaned, clapping her hands over the offended body part. Glaring, she looked up to the offender. It was Malfoy. Oh, _fuck. _

"What's the matter, mudblood? Not happy with your prediction?" He sneered down at her and she felt her heart skip a beat. _What the fuck?_ Gods, participate in one stupid, childish game and suddenly she was a puddle of girlish glee. She gingerly removed one hand from her nose to inspect the damage and saw blood. _Gods._ Hermione brought a sleeve up to her nose and, keeping it covered, proceeded to tell Malfoy to fuck off.

"Mai dib ag ou, Balfoy!" Then, "fub!"

Draco laughed down at her. She really was delightful. Luckily it was crowded and dim in the hall and Pansy was several feet away, gossiping with her girl friends. "Let me, you idiot." She shook her head at him and tried to move away, but he caught her arms and removed them from her face. A thin trail of blood was streaming from her nose. He pulled out his wand and muttered a healing spell. The bleeding stopped immediately and Hermione snatched her hands away, bringing them up to wipe at her nose. She cast several furtive glances in his direction and he laughed a little louder. "Merlin, Granger, you just can't seem to hold yourself together around me!"

Hermione finished wiping her face and glared up at him again. "Maybe you should just watch where you're going, Malfoy!" She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned about. Harry had found her.

"What do you think you're doing, Malfoy?" he half snarled, seeing that his wand was out.

The other boy looked from Hermione to Harry and back again before answering. "Your girlfriend ran into me in her desperate attempt to escape _you,_" he finally settled on saying.

Harry took a step forward, but Hermione held him back. "It was nothing, Harry. I ran into him and bloodied my nose- he's just healed it, is all."

Harry looked at Malfoy suspiciously. "Why would you heal Hermione, Malfoy? You hate her."

"Couldn't let her get her filthy blood all over my robes, could I?" Draco snarled back, watching through half lidded eyes as Hermione's face grew pale and she tugged Harry's arm, dragging him away from the scene and disappearing into the crowd. He didn't really feel fantastic saying those things, but there wasn't much help for it at the moment. Pansy returned from her gossip session and Draco pushed her firmly towards the tent the other two had exited moments earlier. He didn't want to lose track of them just because he had to be a good boyfriend for a few more days.

"Come on, Pans. Let's get your future settled." Pansy giggled at him and then ducked inside. He cast one more glance about the room before heading in after her. Potter and Granger were headed for the east end of the hall. He noted the direction carefully and then pulled the flaps closed behind him.

* * *

Harry pulled back on Hermione's arm, slowing them down. "Hermione, hang on- just slow down!" He pulled back a little harder and she crashed back into his arms. He turned her around and smiled down at her, concerned. "Are you okay? Malfoy didn't hurt you?" She shook her head sullenly and looked away. 

"I'm _fine_, Harry. Malfoy didn't do anything." _Well, nothing I'm going to tell you about, anyway._

He put his finger under her chin and tilted her head up, but she jerked her head away. He sighed, a little frustrated. He wanted to help her, really he did, but he couldn't help her when she was behaving so mysteriously. "Hermione, what did Lavender mean, back there? She said Ron didn't actually hit you."

"Harry, I don't really want to talk about it right now," she looked up at him, her best weepy look upon her face. Harry didn't buy it.

"Hermione…please, tell me. I won't get angry, I promise. He's been a git about the whole thing so much that he deserved the punch I swung at him." When she didn't say anything, he added, "_I _probably deserve to be punched, we've all been such bastards."

Hermione looked down at her shoes. She couldn't tell him the truth…not now, not after everything else, not when…_not when she didn't want Malfoy in trouble. _She looked up at him again. He was standing there, waiting patiently for her reply, ready to believe whatever she told him. So she lied. Again. _On purpose._ And she didn't much care.

"I don't actually know who hit me," she began. "It all happened to quickly…I was walking back from the library late a few nights ago and a group of students must've overtaken me, because the next thing I knew, I felt hands grab my shoulders," _Malfoy's hands, _"and they shook me up a bit," _well, that part is true, at least, _"and then someone hit me. Here," she said, pointing, "across my cheek. Made my nose bleed, actually. Things went dark for a bit and when I came to, I was alone again." She shuffled her feet some. "I think maybe Filch or someone scared them off."

Harry felt strangely as though his heart wanted to break. It was certainly dashing about his chest in a most awkward manner. He'd hit his best mate for something he hadn't done while at the same time glad for the opportunity to nail him one. Personally, he thought he should've done it ages ago, for all the misery he'd caused Hermione. Still, he wasn't sure whether to laugh or shout. He decided to go for something that didn't involve speaking and hugged Hermione close. Harry felt her trembling and pulled back. "Are you cold?" She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Hermione. If Ron and I hadn't been such fools this never would've happened." He put a hand to the side of her face, gently, his thumb brushing across the cheek that had taken the blow.

"I'm fine, Harry, really," she replied, taking care to make her trembling a little less noticeable. She wondered briefly if Harry was just stupid, or madly in love with her. She decided to settle on the former, because the latter was to difficult to deal with at the moment. If he couldn't recognize fake tears and trembling when he saw it, then of course he would believe her lies. She smiled a little and he nodded his head.

"Right then. How about we go to the dunking booth next? I hear Dumbledore forced Snape to take part."

Hermione laughed at this and they turned to join the line to the dunking booth. Seeing that the line was very long, Harry said, "Actually, why don't you wait here a moment and I'll go get us some drinks. We can take a turn after the queue's gone down a bit."

Hermione nodded in agreement, making a face at all the people who filled the hall. "I'll just be here by the photo booth," she said, gesturing behind her.

"Oh, right, of course that's what it is," Harry replied. Hermione laughed at him a little.

"What, never seen one?"

"No," Harry said, his face darkening just a bit, "I just never really got to use one out in the muggle world, you know?"

Hermione fell quiet; she wasn't sure what to say to that. She'd known Harry's childhood hadn't been a happy one, but she was so used to seeing his smiling face when he was at Hogwarts that she didn't always realize he might not be as familiar with the items other children were used to. She started to apologize, but Harry shook his head.

"S'alright," he said. "So is this one like a combination of the muggle kiosks in the malls and wizard photography?"

"That's right!" she replied brightly. "Hey, let's have a go after you get back with drinks, okay?"

He smiled down at her. "Sounds great. I'll see you in a minute or two!" With that, Harry walked out into the crowd and Hermione leaned back against the photo booth, looking down at her feet. In spite of the enchanted breeze and cool air, Hermione was starting to feel warm. She absentmindedly slipped her robe off her shoulders and reattached the prefect badge to her dress. Her annoyance from the reading earlier was still bothering her. That Lavender Brown…who did she think she was? And Malfoy- bloodying her nose for the second time in three nights. What was wrong with the stupid git? _You know perfectly well what's wrong with him,_ the voice said. She picked at the fabric of her dress, frustrated. Surely she didn't care for him? What the mirror showed was only a mistake, right? After all, getting married was the farthest thing from her mind at the moment. There was the war they all needed to prepare for; N.E.W.T.s next year- she really ought to be studying for those _now_; she had to decide what she wanted to do upon graduating- if she lived to graduate. Actually, with Voldemort and his followers out to get Harry and his closest friends and now a would-be Death Eater himself lusting after her, well, death sometime in the next year and a half seemed a likely probability.

* * *

From across the room in line at the dunking booth, Draco could see Potter and Hermione having a rather friendly conversation. Damn it, Potter was _leaning_. Only he, Draco Malfoy, was allowed to _lean_ with Hermione Granger. He was the _god _of leaning. He looked down at Pansy and then back up to Potter and Granger. Potter was just leaving, probably to get food or something. That was the only reason any boy in his right mind would leave a girl who looked _that good _alone at a crowded party. Not that he knew they were going out, but if Potter was _leaning_, well, that only meant one thing. He looked to Pansy again. She was chatting with some of her friends again. The only booths she'd wanted to visit were the divination and maybe one of the wand game booths. She wasn't interested in the dunking, but was willing to follow Draco anywhere he wanted to go. _He'd_ only really wanted to come here because it was close to where Potter and Granger had ended up, but far enough away they wouldn't try to accuse him of following them. Glancing at Pansy once more, he made up his mind. 

"Oy, Pansy," he said, leaning over her. She looked up at him, eyes bright and vacant from the gossip she'd been exchanging. He chuckled to himself. "I'll go get us some drinks while we wait, shall I?" She and her girlfriends giggled over what a perfect boyfriend he was and he cringed a little.

"Sure, Draco. You know what I like?"

"Of course," he murmured gallantly, "hot chocolate?" She nodded and he bowed over her hand, then took off. If he was going to execute his plan, it needed to be done quickly. He waited for the crowd to thicken a bit and then veered his course towards Hermione.

Hermione had just looked up from her morbid thoughts when a figure appeared beside her. She looked up and saw Malfoy. _Oh, gods._

"What do you want, Malfoy?"

He smirked down at her. "You know perfectly well what I want," he drawled slowly, sending a hot flush creeping up her neck. She looked back down to her dress, her robe tucked neatly over one arm. She wished desperately she was still wearing it; from Malfoy's height she was sure he had quite a view. "Anyway, how did your little divination go? Pleased with your results? Going to marry Potter and have lots of little half-bred babies?"

Hermione turned and looked up at him, her eyes sparking. "Not that it's _any _of your business, Malfoy," _oh, but it is,_ "but I don't believe a word of that rubbish! Besides, I'm sure Pansy already has her china patterns picked out, _ferret._ "

He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment before placing one hand upon her shoulder and sending her falling backwards into the photo booth. She landed on the seat with a _whumph, _the breath knocked out of her. Malfoy followed her swiftly, immediately pinned her hands above her head and before she knew what was happening she was being kissed, firmly and on the lips. She turned her head away, tearing her mouth from his deliciously offending lips and glared up at her captor. _Malfoy, _that, that_…delectable piece of pureblood ass_? She shook her head violently, struggling. She should've guessed what he would try and do. Take every opportunity to kiss, her that's what! Those soft, warm lips covering her mouth, just moist enough…no one else had those lips. She blinked again, shaking her head. What the fuck. _What the fuck! _

"Malfoy, if you don't get off me this instant, I'll-," she paused, searching for words. His lips hovering right above hers were proving distracting.

"What, Granger?" he laughed. "You can't reach your wand." He shifted on top of her, making her quest for a lungful of air more difficult.

"Pansy!" she managed to gasp.

"Oh, she thinks I'm off getting her drinks, same as your boyfriend," he replied. Then, realizing she couldn't breath, moved her so that she was, however unwillingly, sitting on his lap. His eyes took in her dress and make-up almost greedily and she shrank away from him.

"For your information, Harry really _is _getting me drinks- Malfoy, what do you think you're doing?" she asked for the second time that day.

Again, he was hard pressed to answer, but finally found one that was appropriate. He leaned forward, his mouth at her ear. He could feel her tensing…

"Seducing you," he breathed, and then drew her mouth to his once more, crushing her body to him, feeling her heart race as her own chest squashed up against his. He had to admit, it wasn't his first choice of loactions for seduction, but it would have to do. They were at a carnival, after all, in the middle of all the students…all his classmates…his professors. The thought made him shiver from danger and he pulled her closer, his tongue exploring her mouth- now _that _was interesting. For all of her posturing, she seemed to be responding rather hungrily to his touch.

Hermione managed to pull away, a flush in her cheeks, her eyes glassy. "Malfoy, you need to let me go," she said, out of breath and out of sorts.

He shook his head fiercely and drew her in for another kiss, but she succeeded in bringing her hands up and held herself firmly away from him, hands on his chest. His heart fluttered again. She tried to shift on his lap, but only succeeded in hitting her foot against the button for pictures.

"Harry will be back any moment and I refuse to be caught in such a position!"

He shook his head again and tightened his grip. She sighed. "I refuse to let you be caught in such a position, either, Malfoy. Please?"

The flash began to go off and without thinking, he pulled her into another heart stopping kiss. He pushed her away when the flash stopped and stood up, holding her tightly to him for a moment more. _Pansy's waiting._ He tried to ignore the sick feeling in his stomach. _Potter is on his way back._ Hermione felt stiff and unwieldy in his arms, different from the girl he'd kissed only seconds before. _Oh for Merlin's sake, Draco- you do value your life, don't you, man? _He felt her hands on his chest again, reach up and feel his face once- _almost tenderly_- and then with blunt determination shove hard on him.

"Get out _now_!" she hissed at him.He stumbled from the booth and turned to look back at the swinging curtain.

He shrugged and ran a hand through his hair, trying to slow his ragged breathing. He was about to turn and walk away when he saw the little strip of paper in the slot on the side of the booth. Curious, Draco reached down and pulled it out; it was their photos from just now…rather incriminating photos, really. In spite of her protests, Hermione's head was clearly thrown back in ecstasy as he nuzzled her neck first, then her jaw, and finally landed his mouth upon hers. In the pictures she was either pulling him near or pushing him away, alternately; a smile upon her face at one moment and then scolding him and pouting the next. Smiling, he tucked the strip of miniature photos into his robe and whisked away from the scene. Draco could see Potter was just heading back, two drinks in hand. _Better go get some for Pansy, _he thought. He found he didn't feel any guilt as he walked away, patting the photos through his robe, and he suddenly couldn't wait until the dance. _Then again,_ he thought,_ gods don't feel guilt. That emotion is reserved for mere mortals, of which the savory Hermione is obviously one. _He smirked to himself as he headed for the drinks booth_. I'll have to work on that. With her._

* * *

**Author's Note: I apologize for making you all wait for this chapter so long. I am still in the middle of exams, but I hope to be back to my regular updates very soon. Thanks for your patience. More confrontations to come!**


	15. Chapter 15: Define Bum

**Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise; all characters and ideas belong to J.K. Rowling.**

* * *

Hermione sat back down on the seat of the photo booth hard. She braced her arms on either side of herself, hands gripping the seat cushion. What had just happened? Where was Harry? She was disturbed by the encounter, she would admit that freely and to anyone. Her reasons for being disturbed, however…well, they were another matter entirely. She brought one hand up to her lips, brushing her fingers against them in memory, hand shaking all the while. What _had _happened? Was it even possible that Lavender- stupid, shallow, airhead that she was- had predicted right? No, no, _no. _Anything but that. She thought she might be sick for a moment and clutched her hands across her stomach. She must be going crazy. That _must _be it, because there was no way, not even the remotest of possibilities that she was just as attracted to Malfoy as he was to her! As he said he was, anyway. Besides, wasn't she getting over Ron? _Ron. _That was it! She was just rebounding from Ron's horrible behavior the past few months. That was all. That was _all._

Hermione stood up, putting a hand on the wall to steady herself. She'd better leave the booth so that Harry didn't worry. She suddenly stopped, clapping her hands over her mouth in horror. _The booth. _Her foot had hit the picture button! There was _evidence _of Malfoy's fowl intentions! _And your willing involvement. _She shook her head against the images invading her mind and balled her hands up into fists. Oh, _gods. _"I think I might actually kill him this time," she whispered to herself, chest heaving in the anger that is only born of embarrassment and fear.

Panicking, she ripped the curtain back and stepped out quickly, only narrowly avoiding Harry, who held two full cups in his hands. A little of the spiced cider in them splashed out over his hands as he moved back quickly, causing him to wince. Hermione looked down and realized the cups were steaming.

"Oh, Merlin, Harry! I'm so sorry- let me get that for you." She quickly whipped out her wand and cleaned the mess, then turned her attention to his hands. "Are you okay?" she asked, looking up into his face.

He smiled down at her and nodded. "Fine. It's nothing a little ice later won't fix." He looked behind her at the booth and nodded towards it. "What were you doing in there?"

She grinned sheepishly. "Ah, just making sure I knew how to run it."

"Not snogging some secret boyfriend, I hope." Harry teased, handing her one of the cups.

Her face went a little pale, but if Harry noticed, he didn't say anything. Her hand shook a little as she took the cup and they sipped at their drinks quietly for a moment.

"So…looks like the line hasn't gone down too much, huh?"

Hermione peered at him over the rim of her cup and nodded her head in agreement. She was trying to edge around him to get a look at the slot on the side of the booth, but Harry was standing almost right up against it. She really couldn't get a good view without it seeming like she was checking out his bum. Not that his bum was unpleasant to look at, but it wasn't her main objective just at that moment. _Merlin. _Now she really was looking at his bum. It was snugged into a pair of straight legged slacks and rounded out quite nicely. _STOP THAT RIGHT NOW, _she commanded herself, but found her eyes kept wandering away on their own. Hermione started comparing it with Malfoy's rear, then realized she'd never really checked his bum out before. She shot a glance across the room to where he was standing, but didn't have a good enough view. She looked at Harry's again. It really _was_ quite nice…_ugh, _what was wrong with her?

Harry stood in what he thought was a comfortable silence with Hermione, each sipping their cider. It was really too hot to be drinking, but she wasn't talking so he figured a burnt tongue was a small price to pay to keep peace between them. He glanced down at her and saw she wasn't looking at him or out at the carnival. Instead, her eyes seemed fixed on a spot somewhere right behind him, maybe on the floor. He turned his head a little to look behind him, following her line of sight, and felt a sudden blush beat a path to the roots of his hair. He shifted his weight to one foot, no longer comfortable.

"Erm. Enjoy what you see?" he asked, trying desperately to crack a joke.

She furrowed her brows, as if concentrating, and murmured something unintelligible into her cider. He wondered if she'd heard him.

"Hermione?" Her eyes widened and her head came up then, sputtering a little from trying to talk into her drink. Now it was her turn to blush, something that, even under the circumstances, Harry was starting to find most attractive.

"Er, uh." she said.

He grinned at her, seeing an opportunity for fun. "I'm flattered, really."

She closed her mouth and looked down into her drink, her face growing redder. There was definitely something wrong with her. No denying it now. She looked up at Harry quickly, her eyes sliding off his face as quickly as they met his own green, so _very_ _green _eyes. She lifted one hand to her cheek and felt the heat from her blush. She'd just been caught staring at her best friend's bum. How _humiliating. _If only Hermione had known that Harry was feeling quite the same way at that moment about a pair of chocolate brown eyes, she might not have felt so awkward.

The way her eyes were avoiding him didn't escape Harry. He wished he knew what was bothering her. Was it that he'd caught her, well. It wasn't like he didn't know girls stared at him that way. Sure, it wasn't normal for Hermione to do it, but if she wanted to he wasn't going to stop her or anything. It was actually a little gratifying, coming from her. He wondered briefly why the thought of her checking him out was…exciting. _Humph. _Best not to think too closely on that one, probably. He leaned towards her.

"Did you want to try out the picture booth now?"

She kept looking at the floor, face still a bright pink. Taking a deep breath, she nodded quickly and looked back up at him. "That's a great idea!" she exclaimed, with more enthusiasm than she actually felt.

Harry grabbed her free hand with his and, still holding onto the cider, started to pull her into the booth with him. She lingered behind long enough to look past him at the picture slot. It was empty, but instead of sighing with relief Hermione furrowed her brow. She hung back a little too long and Harry tugged on her hand a bit, jerking her into the booth.

"Alright, alright," she grumbled a bit. Where had the photos gone? Damn it, she wanted that strip of paper so she could _burn _it and forget that had ever happened! _Or keep it and moon over it like a love struck teenager, _the voice in her head whispered. _Draco,_ she suddenly thought, his grey eyes flashing across her mind. Of course, that selfish bastard had taken them. Hermione immediately grew worried as she took a seat next to Harry. She barely registered how close they were sitting until he spoke to her.

"Hermione, you're supposed to smile, I think," his voice floated somewhere just over her right ear.

She turned to reply and found her face mere centimeters from his. They were so close she could feel his breath across her brow. It was pleasant and smelled vaguely like the cider they'd been drinking: mulling spices and vanilla and honey. Hermione closed her mouth without responding and lifted her eyes to his.

Harry suddenly found himself wishing he was in detention with Filch, or Snape, or even Voldemort himself; _anything _was better than being in his current position. To have Hermione so close to him, batting those thick, dark lashes at him, staring at him so _seriously _with those deep, brown eyes…well, it was getting the better of his common sense, what ever it was.

"Smile for the camera!" he practically squeaked, and pressed the button.

The camera was flashing before Hermione even realized what was happening. She looked in front of her and grinned, feeling incredibly silly as Harry tossed an arm about her shoulders. Oh, yes. Something was one hundred percent wrong with her. Otherwise his arm about her shoulders wouldn't make her feel that way, would it? All tingly? No, tingles weren't normal when your _best friend _hugged you close. Tingles weren't normal when…you…shaking her head in confusion, she looked up at him again.

Harry turned his face down towards her, still smiling awkwardly, not sure of what to say. Luckily, he didn't have to say anything in that moment because when he'd put his arm about her and pulled her closer, he'd unwittingly closed the distance of those previous (and _pesky) _centimeters.

Their lips met, brushing up against one another with uncertainty and shock. They sat there, locked in place, still as church mice for a fraction of a second before Harry discovered that he didn't really seem to _care _it was Hermione he was kissing. At least, his _body _didn't care, because the arm about her shoulders tightened and held her to him, preventing escape. Not that he honestly thought she would try to escape, but it seemed like a sensible move anyhow. Girls could do very strange things sometimes, like making you kiss them and then running off, crying because you actually _did _kiss them. Harry knew all about that sort of thing first hand.

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut as Harry kissed her and she decided whether or not to kiss him back. The problem was not that he wasn't a nice kisser; in fact, his lips were warm from the cider and tasted faintly of apples. Oh, and he was tugging at her bottom lip just the way that made her toes curl…no, his kissing was definitely not the problem. The problem was Malfoy. The _problem _was that this was the second time in the same night that she was being kissed by a boy rather unexpectedly and she was trying to decide if the rolling, heated feeling in her stomach it was causing was because she _liked _it, or from general nausea. As Harry's tongue traced its way across her lips, she realized it was like. It was most _positively_ from liking it and she brought her hands up to his robe to pull him closer without thinking.

Unfortunately, she'd forgotten about the cup of extremely hot cider in her other hand just as both hands crashed into the front of his robe. Harry's own cup was squished in his hand as he started from the sensation of hot liquid spilling over lap. They immediately jumped apart, Harry leaping to his feet as Hermione tried to curl away into the corner of the booth. They both began speaking: Harry was trying not to shout every obscenity he knew and Hermione was apologizing feverishly as she pulled out her wand to clean up the spill.

"Oh, gods, Harry, I'm- uh, I'm so, so sorry! Here, let me!"

"It's fine, I have it- Merlin!"

"No, it's my fault, I just meant to, ah, sorry, Harry!"

"Gods, no, mine, I shouldn't-," Harry pulled out his own wand, desperate to stop the heat from seeping under his clothes.

Hermione cleaned the spilt cider from the seat and floor of the booth as Harry _scourgified _his robe and slacks. His sweater seemed unmarred. Hermione was still muttering apologies ashamedly when he pulled her up from the seat a moment later.

"Hermione." His voice was clear and unaffected. It always was when something unexpected happened. He wished he didn't sound like such a prat just then.

She didn't look up anyway, just kept her eyes to the floor. As if utterly embarrassed by what had just happened. He smiled kindly. No, kindly was not the way he ought to be smiling. He ought to be ecstatic that he'd just kissed his best friend, she had kissed him back _and _he had thoroughly enjoyed himself. He grinned at her instead. _Much better._

"Hermione," he said, a little more softly. "Please look at me. I'm not upset with you."

"I'm upset with myself!" she snapped at him, bringing her eyes up to his, surprising him. "I spilled the cider you got all over like a complete idiot…" her voice trailed off. She obviously still wanted to say something. Harry rubbed her shoulder a little.

"I shouldn't have kissed you. Back, I mean. I shouldn't have kissed you back," she finished, flicking her eyes away from his once more. Then she turned and stepped from the booth.

Harry felt like he might suffocate for a moment, the air raced out of his lungs that quickly. What was she saying? She regretted it? What was going on with her? With _him_? He stepped out after her.

"Hermione, please talk to me," he pleaded. "It felt like you didn't mind an awful lot."

She turned back to him and sighed impatiently. "What about Ginny, Harry? It wasn't…well, it wasn't right for me to kiss you that way. You and Ginny-," she was stopped by his protestations.

"Gods, Hermione, why didn't you just ask me if that was bothering you? Yeah, so maybe I would've liked to have known sooner that she was going with other boys, but it's not really a big deal. I can't say I've lost too much sleep over it. You know it's been a mostly one sided thing for her anyway. After all, you're the one who pointed that out earlier. _In front of the whole school, _no less." He rolled his eyes and Hermione stood there, practically gaping at him.

"But you, well, she always made it sound like…and you never talked about it much."

"Well now you know," he finished. It was suddenly his turn to look away. "It's not like I ever liked her that much anyhow. She's cute enough, but I only went out with her those few times because the girl I really liked was taken." _Cho. _The name stood between them, unspoken. They were both silent for a moment. Awkward silence. She sighed again, more softly.

"This can't be happening," he heard her whisper to herself. Harry looked up at her and narrowed his eyes.

"Look, Hermione," he continued, "if you really don't like me then don't worry about it. Subject dropped."

Hermione stood there, silent, trying to decide what to do. It had been a nice kiss- _more than nice_- but she really needed to get some other things sorted out before she did anything about it. _Like Ron. _She had to admit she agreed with the voice in her head. _Yes, like _Ron. _Don't want Harry to be a rebound, do you? _Gods, since when did she care about Ron anyway? Hermione was at a loss. She felt totally confused, torn between wanting to be more with Harry, to jump into a caring, steady relationship with him and doing the _moral,_ the _ethical _thing. Hell, she wasn't even sure if ethics entered the picture at all, but she did know one thing: if she wanted a relationship with Harry, _any_ sort of relationship at all, she needed to take things more slowly. Hermione made up her mind. She opened her mouth to speak, to tell him that she didn't mind it and didn't regret it in the _least_, but that she would need a little time, when a voice interrupted their tense conversation.

"Moved on already, Hermione?"

They both looked over. It was Ron. Looking a little worse for wear, sure, but it was Ron nonetheless. He was holding a little strip of photos in his hand and looked rather upset about them. When he shoved them at the couple, Harry could see why. He realized that the last two photos on the strip were of the beginnings of their kiss. He took the pictures and stuffed them into his robe.

"Ron," he acknowledged curtly. The other boy looked like he wanted to vomit, or kill him, or both. _As if he's got singular rights to Hermione. _Harry clenched his jaw and his fists followed suit. It was bad enough, wasn't it, that he already felt angry at himself for screwing things up with Hermione after only just regaining some of her trust and friendship back, but that now here was Ron, to screw things up even more. He felt a twinge of shame, knowing that he'd hurt his friend more than once already for what may very well be a false suspicion, but couldn't quite control himself enough to keep the murderous rage out of his voice as he spoke.

"Haven't you done enough already?"

Ron's tender and bruised face twisted into a grimace. "I haven't done anything, mate! I keep telling you-," he stopped, cowering back a bit when Harry took a step forward.

"I know!" he barked out, then paused, working his jaw again. "Hermione told me she can't really remember who it was that attacked her. But that doesn't exactly clear your name or free you from the part you played in all this."

Ron looked past his shoulder to Hermione. She was standing there, cheeks flaming, a stony look on her face. She wouldn't even look at him. "Merlin, Hermione. I'm so sorry. If I'd known-," he began, but was interrupted once more.

"If you'd known? _If _you'd _known_?" Hermione shrieked, suddenly furious. What had she been thinking, saying she needed time to evaluate her feelings for this, this _git_? He was a lowdown, sodding idiot and she suddenly couldn't believe she'd wasted so much time on him.

"You did know, Ron Weasley! You saw me get tripped and pushed and knocked over and have my, my books stolen and ink spilled on my parchment and my cauldron tossed and my trunk ransacked and my hair pulled-," she took a big gulp of air, "and you can just go to hell, Ron Weasley, that's what you can do! You and your stupid chit of a sister who _used _me the entire time we were friends! I find it very hard to believe that you ever spoke one honest word to me in your whole life! How could you _ever _treat me this way and expect me to forgive you? You just sat back the whole time and egged them on! You _enjoyed _watching me suffer for something I didn't even do! You're no better than any other muggle hating, pureblood wizard, AND I HATE YOU!"

Hermione would've rounded on him with her wand then if Harry hadn't caught her in his arms.

"Hermione, no!" She struggled against his grasp, wanting nothing more at that moment than to _Avada _Ron into oblivion. Ron's face was ashen and he had the decency to look thoroughly ashamed of himself.

Harry looked at him over Hermione's thrashing form. "Leave now!" he yelled at him.

Ron took one more look at Harry before turning tail and hauling himself out of the great hall as quickly as possible. He disappeared into the crowd and Hermione turned on Harry.

"You! How dare you let him get away! I ought to- ought to-," but Harry was too strong for her and she suddenly stopped talking, stopped thrashing and slumped against him. She gasped for breath, tears of anger streaming down her face.

Harry wrapped his arms about her even more tightly, gathering her still shaking form to himself, tucking her head under his chin. He noticed then, the small crowd that had circled them to watch and counted himself lucky that the noise of the carnival had drowned out most of the exchange. He sent a thunderous glare about them. Many looked nervous and shuffled their feet a bit while others looked awed.

"Come on, Hermione, let's get some air. We can't talk here." With that, the group of students moved a bit to let them pass and he exited with her, one arm wound tightly about the unhappy and angry witch's hunched shoulders.

* * *

**Author's Note: This scene is definitely not over. You'll get to see a bit of Draco in the next chapter. For now though, enjoy! Also, thanks for your patience while I completed exams- I am finished at last and ready to really dig into this story! **


	16. Chapter 16: Can Not Touch

**Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise; all characters and ideas belong to J.K. Rowling.**

* * *

Draco wanted to spell the redhead into oblivion at first. When he'd noticed- _yeah, sure. Noticed_. Right. As if he hadn't been casting surreptitious glances in that direction the minute he got back to Pansy's side. Ah, well. When he'd seen Potter and Hermione leaving the photo booth, their flushed faces not escaping his _notice_, he'd wanted to waltz over and flaunt his own set of pictures in Potter's disgruntled face. Well, a disgruntled face was better than a grinning one. What did it mean? Had Hermione thrust herself upon a less than welcoming Potter? Or perhaps she didn't return his affections…yes, that would suit him. Perhaps she had a certain blond haired god on her mind instead. _Suit you? You'd kill to have her put Potter off for yourself! Stop being so anal and admit you want- _luckily, at that moment the voice in his head was silenced by a commotion. It was then he'd seen the Weasel. 

Oh, that Weasel. Stupid, stupid boy. Probably saying entirely the wrong thing _again. _Hadn't he been beaten enough in one week? It was obvious from his face and the way he stepped back from his former best friend that Potter had taken another swing at him. _Good for him, _Draco admitted grudgingly to himself. _Only _to himself, though. After all, now that Potter had defended Hermione's honor and helped finish off all the ridiculous rumors, Draco rather felt he'd like to step up and be Hermione's protector. Besides, hadn't he laid claim to her first?

As he watched the little scene unfold, he felt a tug at his sleeve, but only tore his eyes away when Pansy's voice sounded in his ear.

"Draco!" He looked down, upset at having to miss a minute of the fun.

"What is it, Pansy?"

She frowned, bothered by his tone of voice, as if she was being a pain. "It's just that, I know it's almost your turn at the dunking booth but I was wondering if you could get me another cup of cocoa?" When he rolled his eyes at her, she shoved the cup into his hands. "Fine! Or don't get me any! I don't even know what I expected- you haven't paid any attention to me the last five minutes anyhow," she grumbled.

Draco's manner changed swiftly. "Oy, Pansy. Sorry, love. I'll get you some- I want to get a-," _closer look at the golden trio's demise._ He stopped himself from drawing her attention to the little spectacle across the way. Wouldn't do to let her know where he was really going to go. "I want to get some more, myself," he finished. He was gone before she could say another word.

Pansy watched him disappear quickly and went back to her girl friends. _Honestly._ Why couldn't he have just gone to get her some like a good boyfriend if he wanted some of his own? _Why do I even bother? _Then she remembered the prediction and giggled, turning to gossip happily once more. She knew Draco would take every minute he was away and turn it into three. It was just his habit. When he did things that were asked of him, he took his sweet time. _I hope it doesn't take that long to get a proposal once we're done with school._ The thought flitted across her mind like the vapor it was and disappeared in a puff of smoke.

* * *

Draco reached the outskirts of the circle just as Hermione exploded at the Weasel, telling him off. Her final words rang in his head. To a certain extent, he was happy (and proud) that she told him off so firmly, pointing out his mistakes to the rest of the school. On the other hand, he didn't relish the comparison to himself. Sure, he believed in blood when it came to magic, but was it really as bad as all that? He didn't hate her, after all. In fact, he thought he's made that abundantly clear to her. Not that he thought they had a chance in hell, but he had to try, didn't he? _Like hell you have a chance, as a matter of fact. Once your father hears…_but he never really intended for his father to hear, did he? He thought about that for a moment, skulking in the back of the crowd, hiding as he listened to Potter restraining Hermione. Keeping her from some well deserved revenge. He smirked, but it wasn't the same. A little sad, even. _Damn it, _what was the matter with him? _Just take what you want. You always do. _But somehow, he knew that wouldn't work this time. 

Suddenly realizing that the shouting had stopped, along with sounds of a struggle, he peered over the heads of the students in front of him. Potter was standing there, an arm about Hermione, looking as though he might murder anyone who came near. Then he was walking a stiff and obviously angry witch from the hall. _Mmm. So it's over already. _He looked down to the empty cups in his hands, wishing desperately he had some excuse to follow them. Some _plausible _excuse; something that would let him follow and speak his mind and interrupt whatever tête-à-tête they were about to have. Not that he ever really needed an excuse to do that to people, he was a prefect after all…but he had the feeling that things might go better if he had some tangible object to show Potter. Something that would warrant him…_ah. _

Hermione's robe lay in a discarded puddle on the floor by the booth. He moved forward as the circle of students dispersed and reached down to pick it up, setting the cups aside. A few leaves stuck to it and he brushed them off, folding the robe over his arm almost reverently. _This will do quite nicely,_ he thought. Draco smirked again as he made to follow the pair from the hall. This time it was back to normal and his smirk widened, almost enough to be called a grin. His stride grew confident as he followed in the shadows behind the couple.

* * *

Once they were outside in the courtyard and away from the noise and bustle and staring eyes of their peers, Hermione rounded on Harry with a fury parallel to that she had for Ron. Suddenly that feeling Harry had, wishing it was _anyone_ else turning on him- oh, to be facing Voldemort right now- returned. 

Fortunately, she only pointed her finger and waved her wand about her head, shouting at him. Well, if she wasn't going to hex him, he would relax and let her get it all out. Harry knew it was really Ron she was still angry at, anyhow. He kept his wand in his hands though, _just in case_. There was no telling with girls, after all.

"You! How could you let him get away? How could _I _let him get away? I spent all that time yelling at him when I could've been cursing him instead. I wasted precious seconds!" She was pacing, her flats striking the paving stones with a light slapping noise. "Not to mention all the time I wasted on him, period! _Years_, Harry. Years! All that time I could've spent on my studies, or learning to properly fly a broom, or, or…," _you_, she wanted to finish, but refused to say it. Harry was mercifully silent.

She cast a quick glance at him, brow furrowed. Why wasn't he saying anything, actually? Harry always knew to say the right thing. Well, almost always. He wasn't at all like- _urgh, _she choked on his name and just like that, her anger was back. "Ron! That stupid, conceited, arrogant, ignorant prat! I can't believe he'd keep coming back, begging for forgiveness- no, that's the trouble- he's _never _asked for forgiveness! He just stands there like, like a _fish_, gawping about for words! As if he's done nothing wrong in his _life _and apologizing is totally _foreign _to him! I could just kill him- no, I will! I'll kill him!"

Harry wasn't speaking for a very good reason: he didn't want to die. He also didn't want Hermione to end up in Azkaban. Oh. That was two reasons. Harry really didn't mind either way. He could sit there all night, if he had to, listening to her spill her guts over the git that was- used to be? Still is? _Fuck. _His best mate. Ron might still _technically_ be his best mate, but that didn't mean he wouldn't toss him a good one again, or even _maybe _set Hermione loose on him. To tell the truth, he was rather surprised, himself, that Ron had come up to them again that night. He thought he'd made it clear to him in the common room earlier that he wasn't going to defend him against Hermione. It made the whole question of how one stops being friends with someone very awkward and unanswerable.

Actually, Harry was kind of hoping that the whole question of whether he would still have to be friends with the prat would be solved by Hermione's determined pushing away. Harry might be the Boy Who Lived; he might be the most brave and courageous Gryffindor yet, but that didn't mean he wanted to have to choose between his friends or somehow deal with the fact that he'd have to accept Ron's apology someday soon. Because he accepted everyone's apology. With the exception of Snape. And Malfoy. It was the right thing to do, after all. Forgive and forget; all that rubbish.

So he was still watching calmly, wrapped in his own thoughts, hand still gripping his wand, when Hermione came to a stop in front of him. He registered her slim form standing there, shaking slightly. Looked like she'd worn down a bit, shivering a little from left over rage. He blinked a few times. No, she was cold. What had happened to her robe? _Ah. _The booth: he recalled it being dropped in all the commotion. Well, they'd go retrieve it later. He automatically stood and wrapped his arms about her. No questions asked.

"Harry, what am I going to do?"

He snugged her head beneath his chin and shrugged. "About Ron?"

"About Ron," came her whisper.

"Whatever you decide is okay with me. As long as you decide before the bloke apologizes to me."

"You'd forgive him." It was a statement.

Harry shrugged again and hugged her tighter. Her shivering was slowing, but their breath was still puffing out before them in little clouds.

"What do you want, Hermione?"

"Time," she replied. "I want time I don't have- to get over Ron and Ginny and figure out how it is I'm supposed to feel about my best friend." She looked up at him when he put her from him, eyes questioning.

"How is it you feel about me now?" His heart beat a little faster. She lowered her eyes and looked away.

"Erm." She shifted uncomfortably. The shivering returned, and Harry removed his cloak, prepared to wrap it about her shoulders.

"You don't have to say anything right now if you don't want to. Rather talk about it later?"

_Ah. _There it was. The right, the most perfect, thing to say. Hermione smiled up at him gratefully as his robe settled about her shoulders. She nodded shyly and he smiled back, landing a small kiss on the top of her head.

"Later, then."

* * *

From the shadows, Draco looked on the scene, feeling more than a little sick to his stomach. _How awfully sweet of Potter. The bastard. _He looked down at the robe in his arms and wondered how he should go about his interruption. He didn't really want to just wing it. The last time he'd done that it had turned out rather disastrously. Draco winced, crossing his legs a bit at the memory. Of course, there was always the excuse they were prefects…yes, he really needed to get her alone and _now. _The urge to shove the set of pictures in Potter's face surfaced again and he clamped it back down. He knew instinctively that as much as he wanted to lay claim to Hermione, those pictures were not something he should flash about. Not just yet, anyhow. _Right, prefects. Just make something up, you dolt!_ Draco bristled, offended at his own tone of voice. _Gods are not dolts, _he replied stiffly. _Well this one is, _the voice replied. Draco smiled grimly at his own foolishness and stepped from the shadows, moving towards them briskly. 

At the sound of his footsteps, Harry immediately turned, one arm snaking about Hermione protectively.

_Gods, gag me, _Draco thought, but continued to strut forward purposefully.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

_Malfoy? _Hermione felt panic and anger bubble up again and fought the urge to raise her wand. _As much as you want to hex someone right now, and as much as you pretend to _detest _Malfoy, it wouldn't do to take down a fellow prefect just now. _She sighed and rubbed at her temples. Damn the voice in her head. _He is a good kisser. _She sighed again. Harry's arm about her tightened and she shrugged it off impatiently.

"Yes, Malfoy. What is it this time?"

He met her eyes and sneered. "Pardon me, _mudblood. _You forgot your robe in all the commotion back there. Far be it from me to let a fellow prefect catch pneumonia, even as much as I'd like to see you dead," he snarled.

Harry stepped forward angrily and Hermione put a hand on his shoulder. "What is it you told me, oh, twenty times today?" she joked. "_He's not worth it_."

Harry turned back. "Sure?" His face was twitching a bit, as if he would tear out Malfoy's throat if she only gave him the word. It was kind of sweet, really. _In a cannibalistic, fire-breathing monster sort of way. _Right. Sweet.

Hermione nodded, smiling sickly. "Yeah, sure." She turned back to Malfoy. "Now tell me why you really followed us out here, _ferret._"

Draco hadn't been prepared for this. Well, he'd expected some sort of confrontation, but to have her just out and insist he was lying and not take him seriously so quickly…_um, what were you expecting, Draco? A hero's welcome? _He rolled his eyes.

"Robe, Granger. I already bloody said that, didn't I? Besides, there's a-," _first year, she has a heart that's sympathetic to a fault, unless your name is Malfoy. _"First year," he continued, "who's having some trouble with his-," _friends, she'll empathize with that one, _"friends and he's making some ridiculous sobbing noises at the moment. Let me talk to you about it, it'll only take a minute." He put his best smile on. "Promise."

Hermione watched him closely while he was talking. She thought he might be lying- Malfoy usually was- but she knew it was her duty as a prefect to help out. She turned to Harry, shrugging helplessly.

"Will you wait for me?"

Harry nodded and didn't move. She gave a small, patient smile. "Inside, Harry. Wait for me inside? We can't discuss prefect business in front of other students. Confidentiality?" she queried, by way of explanation. He stood looking at her rather gravely for a moment and then nodded gruffly.

"Fine. I'll just be inside, then." As he moved past Malfoy towards the door, he paused. "If you try anything, Malfoy…" he warned, glaring at the other boy before moving inside.

Draco laughed at his back and then turned to Hermione again. She was standing there, still in Potter's robe, waiting for Draco's story. Instead of going on about the poor, helpless first year, though, he immediately closed the distance between them and swept Hermione into his arms.

"Malfoy!" Hermione scrabbled for footing as he caught her up and she thrust herself from him in no uncertain terms. His hands remained locked on her shoulders.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? What about this first year?" she gasped out as she yanked herself out of his grasp.

Draco smiled rather evilly at her and she knew he'd been lying about the first year. _Why do you believe a word he says? He always lies. It's all he knows how to do. _She narrowed her eyes and then swung her hand back.

The boy's eyes widened a bit as her hand connected with his face. His head rolled back on his neck and he immediately whipped it back, his eyes narrowing dangerously. Hermione stepped back, suddenly unsure of herself. She wrapped Harry's robes about her more tightly and glared back at Malfoy.

"You deserved that-," she started, and he stepped forward menacingly, effectively shutting her up.

"I deserved no such thing, Granger," he spat. He raised a hand to his cheek and rubbed it viciously. "But at least I know how you feel about me, which is more than I can say for Potter."

Hermione's glare faltered a bit. He took advantage of her uncertainty. "Yes, how do you feel about Pothead, Granger? Is he your true love? Or is a he just a rebound because Weasel didn't know how to treat you?" Another step, slower this time. She didn't budge.

"No," his voice dropped to a low, seductive note and he took another step, another, until he was right up against her, their noses practically touching. She was shaking. He could tell she was trying desperately to stand up to him, but all she'd really succeeded in doing was letting him get close to her once again. "No, Weasel didn't know how to treat you right, did he? How to _touch _you," he breathed, one hand reaching behind her, grabbing the back of her neck roughly. His touch almost immediately became a caress, though, and her shaking stilled. "Did he, Granger? Does Potter?"

"Do they what?" she almost sighed the words, succumbing to the way his hand was tenderly massaging her skin, bringing her face even closer to his.

Draco grinned down at his quarry. _Forget the hero's welcome. This is _better. _So much better. _"Touch you, Granger. Do they _touch _you? In all the right places…do they know how to touch you without laying a single finger on you?"

Her eyes snapped open at that, but it was too late. Draco's mouth was claiming hers hungrily, his lips catching hers in a tender kiss that _burned. _Oh, how it burned. All the way down to her toes and back up, settling low in her abdomen, sending fiery tendrils out into her limbs. She couldn't have pulled away if she'd wanted to, anyway. Both his hands had found their way up into her hair and he was holding her head firmly up, lips locked to his as he deepened the kiss. His tongue forced entry and she moaned, so loudly she worried the whole school might hear her.

Hermione lost herself in the sensations his mouth was producing within her. The warm, thick muscle was caressing her teeth, her tongue, her lips, making her open wider to let all of him in eagerly, with a hunger matching his. Maybe this is what Lavender meant? Maybe lust was enough to marry a boy over? Because if it was, she was ready for the honeymoon. He groaned into her mouth, the guttural sound reverberating in his throat and jaw and passing down into her spine so that she felt she would scream if she didn't have more of him just then. _All _of him. His free hand found its way to the small of her back, pushing Harry's robe out of the way. _Harry. Oh, shit._ Her mouth tried unsuccessfully to form the words and her teeth came down on Draco's tongue.

He yelped and jumped back from her immediately, hands over his mouth. Now it was his turn to sound like an idiot. "Fub! Muffer fubbig jebus, Erbiode!"

Hermione's hands were over her own mouth as she tried to rationalize kissing Draco Malfoy for the fourth time in less than a week. She stared at him, her face flaming, and then she began to laugh. It was her usual, clear laugh, but it wasn't as light hearted as it normally was. Draco noticed and brought his head up from nursing the offended body part. He tried to speak slowly around his injury.

"What…what the hell is wrong with you, Granger?"

She stared at him a little longer, her mouth working itself into an answer. "M-me?" she finally managed to splutter. "What's wrong with you? I should think it was perfectly clear that I don't want anything to do with you!"

He smirked and straightened himself up. "You have a funny way of showing it, mudblood."

She spluttered a little more and he stepped forward, thrusting her robe at her. "Oh for Merlin's sake, Granger. Just forget it. Here, take your robe. I don't want the filthy thing anymore."

"You!" Hermione bit back the offending words before she could say them. _You offensive, foul cockroach! How dare you imply I actually enjoy your embrace? _She bit them back because it was true. She did seem to enjoy his kisses, as much as she despised him. And since when had he been saying _mudblood _as if it were an endearment? She looked at him askance and inched forward, finally snatching the robe away. The question now was, what did she do about those feelings, if anything? And how did Harry fit into any of it? She looked at him again only to find him staring at her unabashedly.

"How long are you going to fight me on this, Granger?" he said softly. She blinked at him, confused. He couldn't possibly…

"You can't possibly imagine that I want anything to do with _you_, Malfoy." She scoffed a bit, feeling strangely uncomfortable beneath his steady gaze. He snorted and rubbed the cheek she had struck absentmindedly.

"At least I had the nerve to tell you up front how I felt!" he responded angrily. She cast her glance away, bundling her rob up between her hands, wishing she were anywhere else.

"Malfoy-," she began.

"Draco," he grunted.

"What?"

"Draco," he replied more evenly, his gaze unfaltering.

_Oh. _He wanted her to call him by his Christian name…well. Well, well, well. This was not going at all how she wanted it to.

"Draco…,' she murmured. Then, rushing forward with her speech, "you may be a good kisser, but that doesn't mean-," she started, but he interrupted her again.

"A _good kisser?_" He felt his blood begin to boil and he fought the urge to toss her for one, right there, in the middle of the courtyard. "I'm more than a good kisser, you daft Gryffindor!"

"Well excuse me for trying to let you down easy, you dumb git!" she cried. "I know you neither want nor deserve my pity, but I can't be with you!"

Draco smiled slowly. "You mean you won't," he corrected. Well, they were finally getting somewhere.

"No," she replied, glaring at him. "I _can't. _I always mean what I say. I _can't _be with you, Draco. You as well as anyone ought to know that. Me, daft. Humph!" she snorted to herself.

He struggled to understand. "So, even though you don't feel this way when anyone else kisses you-," he stopped when she tossed her head, her glare returning.

"How would you know what I feel when someone kisses me?" He stared at her blankly and she sighed, throwing her hands in the air. "Boys! _Augh!_" She started past him, heading for the interior of the castle and back to Harry. Harry, at least, was being sensible tonight. He wasn't being overly demanding or forceful or, or…_kissing you in the most lewd and sensual manner you've ever been kissed in your life?_ No! That wasn't what she wanted to think about. She _refused _to think about it. Malfoy- _Draco_- and she would never, ever, ever work out. EVER. It was too absurd to even consider. Harry was nice, _Harry _was kind, considerate, even a good kisser…_but he isn't Draco. _She wanted to scream, suddenly. _I don't even _like _the git! How am I supposed to feel when he kisses me like that, just do nothing? Not respond? I can't seem to control what my body wants or doesn't want, even if it _is _Malfoy dishing it out. _She stomped on, feeling more frustrated and confused than ever.

She felt a hand catch her sleeve and she stopped, speaking over her shoulder. "Let go, _Malfoy_."

He removed his hand as if he'd been burned and lashed out the only way he knew how, or had left. "Is that what you want, _mudblood_? Don't want anything to do with a pureblood like me, huh? Too good for the likes of me?"

She whipped about, prepared to strike him again, but he caught her wrist in one powerful hand.

"I won't drop this, Granger, because, like yourself, I _can't._ Believe me, I wish I could. I wish I could expel you from my mind as easily as you seem to do with me, but I can't. And _I don't want to._" He released her wrist and she snatched it back. "Besides, you seem to forget that I'm the one holding all the cards," he murmured, reminding her of the photos. Her face paled considerably.

"Oh?" she tried very hard to sound more confident than she was feeling and wishing that photography of any sort had never been invented. "That's strange, because as far as I'm aware, don't you already have someone you should feel that way about? And even if you do hold the cards, _I'm _the one who has what it is _you_ want." she challenged coolly, rubbing her wrist.

Realization dawned on him. _Pansy_, the voice in his head sang cruelly. _Fuck. _While he was busy grappling with an appropriate answer, Hermione turned on her heel and left. She pushed open a door and was gone before he could respond. Fuck, fuck, _fuck! _So did that mean she liked him? Did it mean she wouldn't do anything more with him until he'd gotten rid of Pansy? Why was the girl so damned hard to figure out? Kissing her was much simpler. When their lips were crushed together and their blood was pumping in their ears there was no need for understanding or morals or answers to life's moot questions. _Well, were you expecting any less? She is the brightest witch of her age, you git. _He smiled wryly and rubbed his cheek once more. And the most dangerous, it seemed.

His ears perked up suddenly. The opening strains of a waltz were beginning to filter out of the windows of the great hall. _Ah. _The dance. _Well, now is as good a time as any_, he supposed, and he followed the petite witch inside.

* * *

**Author's Note: Thanks for all your questions and concerns! While I sincerely hope you stick with me despite my answers, I'll understand if you feel you cannot. **

**To _mofo_: Thanks for your reviews! I really wish you had an account so I could reply to your reviews properly, but I appreciate the words of encouragement just the same. I'll try to answer any questions you have via my ANs. **


	17. Chapter 17: A Fool's Preferment

**Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise; all characters and ideas belong to J.K. Rowling.**

**

* * *

**Harry pushed away from the wall as he saw Hermione approaching. 

"Ready to go back?" he called, then paused as she neared. Her face was stormy. "What's wrong? Did Malfoy try something? Because if he did-," Hermione stopped him with a hand on his arm and a shake of her head.

"No, no. Fine. Everything's fine."

He wished she still wasn't looking so nervous. It would've made believing her a lot easier. Taking her hand in his, they began walking down the corridor back to the great hall. He swung her hand a little bit, bringing a smile to her lips. It was a simple, childlike gesture, but it was comforting just the same. They walked quietly, hand-in-hand, smiling softly to themselves, catching the occasional glance at one another. Hermione wished she could have more moments like these ones. With everything that was going on outside the walls of Hogwarts; the impending war; and now the added relationship conflicts, moments such as this were in short supply. She tried to imagine doing something like this with Draco and giggled at the image. Malfoy, happy with the simple things in life? Happy just to be holding her hand? Highly unlikely.

**

* * *

**Draco watched them as they reached the doors of the hall and entered and he skirted along behind them. He felt his heart wrenching in his chest. She was holding Potter's hand, not five minute after talking to _him_, kissing _him_, making him feel like he was the luckiest bloke alive- _who am I kidding_? He turned and slammed an arm against the stone wall next to him, wincing at the impact. She looked so pleased, practically _skipping _down the corridor with Potter. _She'll never be yours._ He swore at the voice in his head. How was he supposed to accomplish anything when he kept giving himself mixed advice? When she kept giving him mixed signals? 

He followed them to the door and peered inside. He could see them just getting to the dance floor. A space in the center of the carnival had been cleared and a stage large enough for dancing was set up. There was a string quartet and lights strung from the posts. It reminded him of something he'd seen in a book once. What was it those Americans called it…_square_ _dancing_. Right. Except no one at Hogwarts would be doing anything except the waltz, an occasional minuet and what the seventh years liked to call shagging on a dance floor. Still, it looked quaint.

Potter was still holding Granger's hand in that childlike fashion. With every swing of their hands he could see his opportunity of being with her grow more faint. It was such an innocent thing…it made his heart wrench a little more. Maybe, if she'd been a pureblood, they could have gone out that way. And he could've been insipidly cute and attentive to her every need and she would have been perfect. Just the way she was. He blinked. They were dancing now, the robe he had so _thoughtfully _carried out to her lying forgotten, tossed over a side rail. _Damn. Damn it _all_ to hell_.

There was an impatient tug on his sleeve and he looked down. _Hmph._ Seemed Pansy was doing an awful lot of tugging on his sleeve recently. He turned his full attention to her and nodded.

"Pansy…" he murmured. So? Should he do it now? Later? Wait until Hermione was paying attention? The question of how exactly to go about breaking up with Pansy Parkinsin was difficult to answer. Especially when he could still feel Hermione's lips upon his.

Pansy took his hand and giggled, following his previous line of sight. "You want to dance? Draco, why didn't you just say so? Come on!" She tugged on his arm again. "Dance with me and maybe I'll forgive you for not getting me more chocolate."

Draco felt himself being dragged determinedly towards the stage and he held back, unsure of himself for the first time in years. What was he doing? The girl he wanted was up there, dancing contentedly with Potter, her head resting on his shoulder. The quartet was playing something by C.P.E.- P.D.Q.- _gah. _One of Bach's children. He couldn't tell which and neither did he care. Stupid muggle composers. The tug came on his sleeve again, a little harder than before.

"Draco?" Pansy's eyes were more than a little concerned now. "I thought you wanted to dance…," her voice trailed off as she started to follow his line of vision again and he suddenly came to. It wouldn't do at all to let her see him watching Granger. Just as he grabbed her hand, though, she snapped her eyes back to his face.

"Oh, I see," she giggled again. What was this? Giggling? She'd just caught him staring at Hermione Granger and she was _giggling_?

"It's bad enough they let that mudblood go to school here, but now we have to watch her and Pothead dancing- blech! Want to go show them what real dancing looks like, huh?" She resumed the tugging that was successfully dragging him, one Draco Malfoy, towards the stage. A pathetically half full stage. A stage where she, one Hermione Granger, could not help but see him. Dancing. With Pansy. He renewed his struggle against Pansy, but it was too late. They had arrived at the stage, just a few short steps away from what Draco felt must surely be his final humiliation.

_Gods, where is the Dark Lord when you need him?_ The string quartet played the final held chords of a counterpoint piece just as he tripped up the stairs after his overeager _girlfriend_. McGonagall, who was standing in a corner watching as Flitwick gave new instructions to the quartet, came forward and waved her arms about.

"Come forward everyone! Yes, you too, Mr. Malfoy," she grimaced, putting an arm about his shoulders and shoving him towards the small group of students. Pansy giggled again and Draco felt his cheeks redden slightly. _Oh, kill me now, Dark Lord. If you have ever held any mercy for your poor servant, kill me now! _No mercy was to be had, however, as McGonagall wnet on about the next dance.

Hermione and Potter stood just to his left and he noticed with some satisfaction that her face was just as red as his own. Well, maybe the evening wouldn't be a complete bust. After all, he'd gotten to kiss her twice- and now he was going to dance a minuet with her. He hid a snort as she looked over at him. She was glaring, as if to say, "This is all your fault! I expect you to keep that dog under control from now on- if you hadn't let her drag her up here with you…," _oh. _She really was saying that. Hissing it in his ear, actually.

McGonagall clapped her hands and Flitwick began leading the quartet once more. Much to Hermione's chagrin, she and Malfoy found themselves switching partners almost immediately. She cast an apologetic look in Harry's direction as he took Parkinsin's hand. He rolled his eyes at her, garnering a laugh she was quick to stifle, and bowed low. The couples began circling and she felt Malfoy relinquish her hand, with some hesitation. She felt the flush in her cheeks deepen as he continued to stare at her. What was he _doing?_ What could he be thinking, staring at her in that manner?

Her eyes dashed about the dance floor, straining to see if anyone else had noticed. It would be hard _not _to. Notice, that was. They began to promenade forward in a line and she took the opportunity to speak to him.

"What are you doing?" she inquired from the corner of her mouth.

He flicked his eyes sideways and smirked. "Dancing, it seems."

"You know what I mean!" she growled.

"Ms. Granger! Pay attention to the rhythm!" McGonagall called from the sidelines.

She whipped her head forward, a scowl on her face. Draco grinned.

"Yes, pay attention, Granger," he whispered. Hermione's scowl darkened as they faced one another once more, performing a side step.

Before she could reply, they were switching partners once again to complete a turn about the floor. Then the students were weaving in and amongst each other. Hermione found herself distracted by the bits of conversation taking place elsewhere down the row of dancers.

"Then they drove the cow into the barn and, 'Quack!'"

"I'm so angry right now-"

"She's really more of a transcendentalist."

"Well when I am pregnant, I hope you have the good grace to be quiet!"

Hermione snickered to herself before finding herself face to face with Malfoy once more. Again, an apologetic glance was tossed over her shoulder to Harry. She saw him looking with distaste at Parkinsin. Really, this dancing business wasn't going quite how they'd planned. But it was enough to have Parkinsin sending her death glares. _Hrmph! Let her envy me. Merlin knows I'd much rather be dancing with Harry. _Hermione looked thoughtfully at Draco as he bowed low and she curtsied. She caught his eye as he rose and he smirked again.

"Can't keep your eyes off me, Granger? I know I'm good dance partner-," he frowned as she snorted at him. "Among _other _things," he added. She glared at him.

"I'm not enjoying this, Malfoy."

"Draco," he corrected.

She nearly tripped. _Really! _What was he thinking, saying something like that in front of the whole school? This, coming from the boy who had once told her to never speak to him! Her shock must have registered on her face, because he grinned once more. Once more, however, she was swept away by another partner- this time it was Neville. Well, anything was better than Dra- no, Malfoy! _Hermione Granger, _she chastised herself, _it won't do to let that boy get to you this way- you know perfectly well that anything between yourself and Draco- Gah! _It was too late. She shot him a death glare of her own before exchanging partners with Parkinsin one last time and ending the dance with some fourth year Ravenclaw.

_I need to get out of here,_ she told herself, disentangling her hand from the over enthusiastic Ravenclaw's sweaty mitt. She looked about, trying to contain her panic, when she saw Harry heading for her and relaxed. He was grinning and mouthing something at her.

_Ready to leave yet?_ She grinned back at him and was getting ready to respond when she felt someone grab her upper arm. It was then that quartet struck up another waltz. McGonagall stood in her corner again, looking on as if she were a proud parent. She looked up to her captor and tensed again, ready to escape.

"Draco!" she squeaked. There was a predatory air about him and when she tried to yank her arm away he swung her closer to him, placing one arm about her waist.

"Prefect's dance," he practically sang in her ear as they began to whirl about the dance floor. He noticed, quite happily, that she was calling him by his first name. _Progress is good, _he congratulated himself.

"But- but…," her voice trailed off as her mind searched for purchase. "Choice!" she crowed triumphantly. "It's the prefect's _choice _dance and that means we each _choose _our own partner," she said, trying to tug her hand from his grasp. How could she have forgotten about this part of the evening? Dumbledore and McGonagall had told them about it weeks previously, asking that they show school solidarity and house unity. _Well, _she thought wryly, _Draco and I dancing together is certainly a unifying act._

He smirked at her again as if reading her thoughts. "Yes, it is prefect's choice and I've chosen you. House unity, all that rubbish. Besides, my date isn't too happy with me right now," he said as an after thought, to keep her from arguing about their respective dates. "I sent her off to Longbottom."

Hermione scowled furiously. What about _her _choice? Didn't she get a say in how their relationship- _not that we have one_- progressed? And besides, she had _not _been about to ask where his date was. _Had_ _not! _She looked for Harry as Draco led her about and finally saw him over on the sidelines, looking quite furious himself. Her heart dropped. While Draco's arm about her waist was strong and territorial and almost _nice, _she still felt bad about Harry. He'd been so _good _to her lately. _More than good,_ she smirked to herself. Oh, Merlin. Malfoy must be rubbing off on her. She looked for Harry again and mouthed, _I'm sorry! Wait for me?_

Harry grinned back in spite of himself and nodded. Even as she smiled back at him, her eyes grateful, he felt more than a little strange. It seemed he was doing an awful lot of waiting for her this evening. _She is a prefect, _he rationalized. _Just let it be. This is Hermione you're thinking of. If you want anything more with her- _oh, yes, he did- _then you'll be doing quite a bit of waiting. Get used to it, _he chided himself. Still, it was hard to stand there and watch her having to dance with that arrogant, ignorant snake named _Malfoy._ His arm was about her waist awfully tight. Not that she looked like she was complaining. _Don't be ridiculous! Hermione's just a good sport, she is. _Still. He would keep an eye on Malfoy. One never knew where that boy's motives- or morals- lay.

Meanwhile, Draco was thinking the same thing. In addition to wondering how he could manage a kiss in the middle of his classmates. Oh, and get a better view down the front of her dress. _And _chastising himself for being a bloody idiot. He was practically smiling- his face hurt from trying to keep a simple smirk in place and he didn't know why God had made Hermione Granger a mudblood. It was positively _cruel_. He knew he was taking a risk, dancing with her in front of everyone, but he hadn't been able to resist. It was just too obvious to him and a brief minuet didn't give him nearly enough time with her in his arms. _This _was really much better. Her small waist encircled by his arm, her flats shuffling about avoiding his carefully placed dress shoes, her hair right beneath his nose, filled to the end of every delightful curl with the scent of violets…he breathed in, smiling to himself. Well, at least if he was going to die for tonight, it would be a happy death. Draco was pretty sure this was the closest Hermione would ever let him get again. Especially after his behavior in the courtyard. He looked down at her, the smirk on his face softening somewhat. She looked up at him and rolled her eyes.

"Lord, Draco. Don't even think about it. This dance will be over in two minutes and then if you ever touch me again, so help me…," her threat ended in a glare and then she looked away again.

"Think about what?" he asked innocently. She scoffed.

"Kissing me, you fool."

His smirked broadened across his face lazily. She had called him Draco. "What do you take me for, Granger?"

She snorted this time. "I thought I just told you." Then, more quietly, "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?" He knew he was infuriating her, but it kept her talking, didn't it? He wanted to prolong the conversation, hear her call him Draco again.

"Making this so difficult? Making fools of us both?" she replied softly.

His feet almost faltered in their steps, but he managed a quick recovery. "I'm not making a fool of you, Granger," he answered, but she shook her head.

"You are!" she hissed, frustrated. "What do you call this?" she asked, nodding her head as if gesturing at the dance floor.

"Dancing," he murmured blithely.

"No! You know what I mean! _Urgh,"_ she grumbled.

He almost smiled again. Almost. "Seducing you?" he tried again, only to be rewarded with another scowl.

"Please, tell me, Granger- Hermione," he added in a whisper, so as not to be overheard. "I can't answer your questions when I have no idea what you're talking about," he explained.

She glared up at him. "Making me be the one to tell you no," she finally managed. "I said it before, outside, and I'll keep saying it!"

He felt his heart give a little wrench. It was the same wrench as before, only smaller, tighter, and _sadder, _somehow. He gazed down at her. "I refuse to accept your answer," he replied. She snorted again. He gave her a little shake. "Damn it, I'm serious!"

"As am I!" she cried back, biting her lip in frustration and anger. The other dancers looked at them, confused, some obviously scared. Pansy sent her the famous death glare and she quieted. "Look," she continued, voice low, "I know it seems like I enjoy your little advances, but I don't-," it was his turn to snort.

"Right, and I'm Godric Gryffindor." Another roll of the eyes, another turn about the dance floor. They must only have a minute of music left. "I know it when a girl likes the way I touch her- _kiss_ _her_, Granger, and you are the epitome! Don't feed me your lies. Besides," and like that, the predatory gleam in his eyes was back, "saying you _can't_ be with someone is quite different from saying you _won't_."

Hermione gulped back her snappy reply as his arm practically crushed her to him, lifting her up in a final swing. The music floated to a stop a few seconds later and she extracted herself from him quickly, yanking her hand out from under his lips. She escaped just as Pansy approached, yelling about being stuck with Longbottom and honestly, why had that mudblood been clinging to Draco so tightly?

Draco watched her rush off to Potter, snatching up her mislaid cloak in the process, with a small amount of satisfaction. He had scared her and he knew it. _You also know she's making perfect sense. You _are_ being a perfect fool. _He frowned and told the voice in his head to shut up. Then he told the girl who was fluttering about him angrily to shut up as well, and walked off the floor. Merlin, it had been a long night already and he hadn't even gotten around to breaking up with his girlfriend. _Merlin._

* * *

**Author's Note: Well, if you all couldn't tell by now, there will be H/Hr on this ship as well. We've already had a casualty and if anyone else wants to jump ship, I suggest you do it now. I will always be grateful that you read this far, of course, but I don't want anyone coming to me complaining about it later. Consider yourselves warned, again. **

**To _mofo_: Yes, she will get a little of both. : ) **


	18. Chapter 18: Your Knickers Liked It

**Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise; all characters and ideas belong to J.K. Rowling.**

* * *

Hermione rushed right past Harry in her haste to escape _Draco_ Malfoy. She could only see what was straight ahead of her; it was a miracle she managed to snatch up her discarded cloak in the confusion. The minute the waltz had ended and Draco had put her back on her feet she had scurried across the floor, down the steps and was headed for the exit. Damn it, it wasn't fair! Why did he feel it was his god given right to make all her decisions for her? To tell her how it was she was feeling and how he made her react when he kissed her? _As if you didn't make that perfectly obvious on your own, _she chided herself. It was true. She did seem to react to him without thinking. But once he'd removed himself from her- actually, it seemed to typically be the other way around, but who was counting at this point? Not Hermione know it all Granger, that's who. She managed to come to her senses afterwards, so why couldn't he? _Because he's Draco sodding Malfoy, that's why._

Hermione was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn't hear the voice calling out to her until Harry was right next to her.

"Hermione, slow down!" He reached out and barely managed to snag the edge of her robe- well, his robe, really. His fingers closed around the material and, being that the robe was already an inch or so too long for her, the imbalance caused by his hard pull caused her to trip over the hem of the robe. She tumbled backwards and he caught her other arm, steadying her. She glared up at him, half expecting to see Malfoy.

Harry's bright green eyes blinked back at her, confused. "Didn't you hear me, Hermione? You rushed out of there so fast- I thought maybe there was an army of blast-ended skrewts after you!"

She continued to frown, wishing she could smooth it out to a smile. After all, Harry hadn't done anything…_except randomly decide that he likes you. _Yeah, so? What was so random about it? Why did it have to be random at all? Wasn't she as desirable as any other female on this blasted campus? She _must_ be. She'd somehow gotten the prince of Slytherin to fall for her; that had to count for _something. _Rubbing her eyes in an effort ot clear her muddled mind, she realized she was tired. Exhausted, really. IT looked like that nap in history earlier hadn't done much good. _Hmph. _Attractive or not, she needed sleep. Hermione focused her glare at the ground in an effort to save Harry from her residual anger and started walking again.

Harry stepped forward and tried to take her hand, but she snatched it away. He reached for her robe instead. "Let me do something, at least," he smiled. With a weary nod she let him take the robe and they strolled on towards the stairs and Gryffindor tower in silence.

Although he was confused and a little frustrated, Harry decided not to ask anymore questions and settled on finding Malfoy in the morning and beating the answers out of him. It was obvious that waltz with him had gotten to her. Not to mention he msut have said something upsetting earlier in the courtyard. No, he wouldn't bother Hermione. Harry had known his friends and enemies long enough to know when Malfoy was behind tricks. Well, no help for it now. He'd just wait it out until tomorrow. No, no. There was no need to bother Hermione about any of this. That was what friends were for, right?

* * *

Draco stalked the corridors all the way back to the dungeons. He kept making aimless turns, wasting time, hoping against hope that by the time he actually made it back to his common room Pansy would have gone to bed. Alas, luck was not on his side that night. Pansy was waiting up for him when he finally crawled back into Slytherin late in the evening. She was sitting in an armchair, legs tucked up underneath her, head lolling to one side. Well, in as much as snoozing was a form of waiting up.

He cocked his head, looking at her expectantly- _nervously_, as if waiting for her to leap from the chair and take his head off. When she didn't, he stepped about the chair carefully and headed for the stairs. He was just putting his foot on the first step when he heard a voice.

"Draco?"

Shit. Shit, shit, _shit. _He turned around slowly to see Pansy turned about in the chair, arms perched along the back of it, chin nestled on a carefully manicured hand.

"Where've you been?" He winced. She said it so innocently…she had to have something up her sleeve, the witch. Nothing Pansy ever said _nicely _was meant to be taken literally.

He stepped back down and walked towards her cautiously. "Out," he replied, as offhanded as possible. Wouldn't do to give her too much fuel to work with.

She grinned at him impishly and he smirked back. Again, cautious. Another step forward.

"So you had no problem dancing with that mudblood, but you couldn't even escort your pureblooded girlfriend of- how many years, now? Back to your mutual common room?"

Ah, she'd struck. He passed a hand over his eyes and feigned exhaustion. "Pansy, I'm very tired just now-," she interrupted him immediately.

"I don't care how tired you are, Draco Malfoy! You just abandoned me! Anyone could have made a pass at me and-," it was his turn to interrupt her. He laughed loudly at her melodramatics and turned around again.

Oh, it was too much, honestly!

"You?" he spluttered through his laughter. "You've got to be kidding me, Pansy!"

She watched him laugh at her- _her! _A look of mounting fury adorned her adorably pug shaped face. Unable to think of anything quite scathing enough to reply with, she let him wear out his laughing spell.

When Draco was recovered, he straightened himself up and gave Pansy the once over.

She smiled tentatively at him, prepared to make nice. "I'm glad you found that so amusing, Draco," she pouted.

He smirked at her over his shoulder as he started up the stairs once more, ignoring her pleas to come back and get his 'Halloween present.' He shuddered to think what she could possible consider a worthy enough present. The thought gave him pause and he turned about one last time. _Actually, this is the perfect moment. _He paused again, eyeing her once more. _Well, not that any moment is perfect for this sort of thing, but it's better than nothing. _

"Pansy," he said clearly, catching her eye. She looked at him eagerly, hopeful. He stopped smirking. _Best to do this seriously, _he thought. _Don't want her getting the wrong impression._

"Pansy, I've been thinking…well, you see how tired I am right now. With all my prefect duties on top of the loads of school work we have and preparing for N.E.W.T.s next year, I really don't think I have time for a girlfriend right now."

Her face fell. "What are you saying?"

"I'm really sorry, Pansy, but I just don't think I can date you anymore." He tried to make his voice as hard and unyielding as possible, but it was difficult to manage when she was looking at him so sadly. He imagined another pair of eyes looking up at him in that manner and almost lost his resolve. _No! Pansy is most definitely _not _Hermione Granger. Stop feeling sorry for her right this instant! _He gulped back his cowardice and turned away, trudging up the stairs to his room.

He could hear muffled sounds of screeching and weeping coming from the common room until the early hours of the morning. Tossing a pillow over his head, he shut his drapes and burrowed further under his covers. His father wasn't going to be very happy when he heard about this. Indeed, _not_.

* * *

Much to Draco's chagrin, Hermione proceeded to avoid him for the next week. He spent the whole week eyeing her, watching her every move, trying to peg where she'd be going next. It was driving him crazy, he was sure, because it seemed like every time he had just figured out where she was headed, she'd disappear. From right under his nose! It was driving him _mental. _

On top of that, Pansy was following him _everywhere. _He literally had to post guards outside the loo just to keep her from wandering in after him. Crabbe and Goyle were getting pretty tired of cracking her upside the head. Besides, the questions his professors and were giving him about why Ms. Parkinsin kept turning up unconscious on the floor outside the boy's loo were getting harder to avoid. Honestly. What did she expect? That he would just take her back? _As if. _

He watched Hermione closely for her reaction to the news that he'd dumped Pansy, but she didn't seem to care. Just kept her nose buried in a book. Wouldn't even look at him! Not one single glance in all seven days he'd been watching her and he was _positive _he was mental. Damn it, how could a girl be kissed- kiss _him_- that way and not have anything to say about it? It wasn't _human._ And now, here it was, a full bloody week later, a perfectly _fine _Friday evening, and he was in the library. Watching her reading. He wasn't even using the time he was sitting there, wasting, _watching_ her, to be studying. He was afraid that if he looked away for even a second she would disappear again.

Draco cracked open his Transfigurations text with a crack and flipped a few pages. He hoped the motion would catch her attention. It didn't. Of course, he was sitting an entire two tables away, but that was no excuse. Didn't the damned mudblood owe him something? Some respect, maybe, for deigning to notice her? He'd practically asked her out, for Merlin's sake! Not that he really could've done anything about it, but what Draco Malfoy wanted, he usually bloody well _got._ Oh, no. Not _her. _Not Hermione Granger, witch extraordi-fucking-naire. She was too bloody good for him, wasn't she? He heard a loud ripping noise and she suddenly looked up.

Their eyes met and he held hope for just a tiny, flickering moment before she glared at him and looked back down at her book. He looked down to his own, noticing that several other heads had turned to stare at him. Oh, fuck. He'd ripped a page right out of his text. He'd been so upset about Granger that he hadn't even noticed how strongly he'd been holding the pages of the book. Draco suddenly realized he was looking down and glanced back up quickly, only to see her bushy hair disappear around a corner.

He was up in a flash, leaving all his school things scattered about the table he was at and started after her. Now came the problem. He'd been skirting it all week: how to keep watching her without anyone getting suspicious. Not that he hadn't been doing it for years already, but this was a different kind of watching. This time it was hungry and deliberate, not the surprised stares she had elicited before. So as he raced down the halls after her, he tried to slow down to a hurried walk. After all, it seemed she wasn't walking quite as quickly as she normally did, in fact, she couldn't possibly be moving as quickly as she had all the rest of the week. He could still see her, couldn't he? She hadn't disappeared yet- oh, shit.

Draco turned the next corner he'd seen the ends of her hair at only to find no one there. No one that was Granger, at least. He let out a howl of frustration and two first years skittered away from him, hurrying away. Sighing wearily, he turned to retrace his steps and claim his things from the library when he heard a door scrape open to his right and glanced over. A hand was beckoning from inside and he edged closer. The hand waved about until it snagged the front of his robe and he felt himself be yanked inside.

* * *

It was dark and musty in the cupboard. Dark and musty and- oh, was that Granger? Draco's heart beat a little more quickly and he immediately tried to put his arms about her. He was rewarded with a crack to his nose.

"Stop it! I didn't pull you in here for a snog!"

"Well why the fuck bother then?" He received another crack to his nose and moaned, clapping both hands over the offended body part. He heard a giggle come out of the darkness, somewhere directly in front of him.

"You know, Draco, I think I could get used to hitting you," she laughed.

"Hitting on me, you mean," he drawled in return. Then, "Was there a point to this, Granger?"

He was rewarded with an unintelligible, "Er, ah. I thought we'd better talk about whatever _this_ is." There was a pause. He waited.

First, "I want those pictures!" Then, "You should stop following me everywhere!"

"Fine! Stop bewitching me and I will, gladly!" he shot back. "As for the photos, well, they're mine," he snarled. He heard her mutter something.

An uncomfortable silence settled over them. Draco felt some dust tickle his nose. He sniffed a bit.

"Oh! Are you feeling alright?" came her voice, before she could stop it. She tried to cover up her mistakenly placed sympathies. "I mean, I wouldn't want to be in such close quarters with someone who's sick," she quipped.

"Oh, fine! You worry about the fact that you picked an entirely too dusty cupboard for our rendezvous and yet you don't mind it when your precious Potter comes around making threats?"

He heard her gasp and grinned into the darkness. Not seeing her was starting to get on his nerves. He pulled out his wand and whispered, "_Lumos."_

Even by the sickly wand light she looked pale. He'd scared her again, it seemed. _Probably more out of fear for Pothead than concern for me,_ he thought. Still, it hadn't been very pleasant when the Boy Who Refused to Die had him up against a wall with a wand pressed to his throat last Saturday morning. The morning after the dance. He must've noticed _something…_obviously, the boy was smarter than Draco gave him credit for. _I can't wait to see his reaction when I finally show off those pictures. _

"What did he do?" She began muttering to herself, "Why am I surrounded by prehistoric orangutans? Stupid men, thinking I can't take care of myself- well, I'll show him how I take care of myself!"

He listened interestedly. "Oh?" he drawled again. "Just how do you take care of yourself, Granger? That is something I would love to see," he finished in a lewd voice.

Her mouth dropped open in shock and he took the opportunity to swoop in and kiss her. Her mouth opened even wider, if it was possible, and Draco quickly took advantage of the situation. A dim closet, just room enough to get her legs about his waist…yes, while he hadn't anticipated having his lustful way with her in quite this manner, it would do nicely.

That was how Hermione Granger, witch extraordi-fucking-naire, found herself in a compromising position with Draco Malfoy in the fourth floor broom closet. _Really, _she found herself wondering, _what does Hogwarts need with all the broom closets, anyway? It's not as if people ever _mop _things here- _oh. With a hoist of his arms, she also found her legs about Malfoy's waist as he continued to snog her. With another hoist he'd removed their mutual robes and with yet another he'd ripped her knickers off. _Oh dear, I don't think those can be repaired,_ she thought dully, fighting off the urge to giggle. Giggling at this point would be bad, because, oddly enough, it would lighten the mood. And right now she wanted Malfoy to take her very, very seriously.

Hermione Granger was, in fact, not at all in her right state of mind, but she would later blame it on the fumes from decades old cleaning supplies locked in the badly ventilated closet with them. For now, however, she was very much aware that Draco Malfoy was _doing_ things to her. And she didn't much care. At some point he'd pocketed his wand and now all she could see was a little ray of light coming into the closet from the corridor outside, dusting the top of their heads. It wasn't enough to light the cupboard and so she couldn't see what Malfoy was doing. She could _feel _what he was doing, though.

His mouth was alternating placing kisses on her mouth and her neck. It felt strangely like her skin was on fire, like she needed to get out of all her clothes or she might burn up. His fingers, the ones from his free hand that _wasn't _supporting her bum, were exploring her nether regions with a wild abandon. Quite like the abandon she was feeling right at that moment. The funny thing was, she liked the abandoned feeling she had just then. It was…liberating, really. Refreshing. So, so _good_. She let out a little moan as he plunged his fingers into her and heard him hiss with pleasure. Or frustration, she couldn't tell which. Neither did she care. If Draco Malfoy wanted to pretend he was madly in love with her, she was going to at least get _something_ out of it, damn it!

And she did. Right on the head.

Draco had shifted her about his waist and unwittingly jostled the forgotten brooms, one of which decided at that very moment to make its presence felt. Hermione yelped in pain, Draco dropped her and she landed on her rear and various sundry uncomfortable cleaning supplies, which caused him to step backwards into the rest of the brooms, mops and, well…it was generally a mess.

Hermione screamed in frustration. Draco did battle with the mops.

It was another several minutes before everyone involved was back in their respective places with their respective clothing on.

Hermione was _pissed_, a fact that did not escape Draco.

"Sorry?" he offered. He received another crack on the nose, followed by a wand to the chin.

"_Lumos,_" whispered an angry witch.

Draco gulped and tried to arrange his features in a pleasant smirk. Hermione scowled and jabbed the wand at his jugular.

"Give me one good reason I shouldn't kill you right now!" she barked.

"You liked it," he challenged. The unsteady gleam in her eyes disappeared, replaced by a murderous rage.

"Just because- okay, I admit, I _liked _it, but that doesn't give you the right to rip my knickers!" She held the offending item up in front of him and he could see that they were, indeed, beyond repair. He smirked again.

"You liked it _a lot,_" he replied, as if that justified it.

"These were my favorite pair, you ignorant twat! I- they- you! Unicorns! They were my- oh my gods! Why am I even bothering to explain? First you assault me and then you- my- unicorns! _Augh! _I'm going to fucking kill you, you abominable prick!"

He put his hands up in front of him and grinned down at her. "Does this mean you'll be my girl?"

"GET OUT!" she shrieked, and he got. He decided that he who runs away lives to snog another day. Or some such rubbish. Still, he had an exhilerating time and just then wanted very much to get to his room and contemplate that time more closely.

* * *

Minutes later, Hermione stood in the dark, still holding her torn underwear in one hand, staring down at it even though she couldn't see it. It was the principle of the thing, really. Why had she let herself get carried away like that? _Fumes, right. Must have been the fumes. _Somehow, though, the answer didn't quite satisfy her. What the fuck. _What the fuck. _She needed someone to talk to about this. Immediately. Pronto.

Harry? Er, no. That would be a bad idea. "Hey, Harry, I know you just confessed your love to me the other night and I asked you to wait and all, but Malfoy, see, he and I have this bizarre chemistry and I kind of want to shag his brains out even though it'd _never _work out between us, and every time I try to talk to him about it rationally I end up snogging him! Got any advice?"

No, then Draco really would be dead. Lavender? "Lav, I know you love Ron and you're still pissed off at me, but…," _no. _That wouldn't really bloody work, either.

Damn, her list of confidants simply didn't exist anymore. Unless she talked to Ginny…gods, no. She'd rather cut off her hand than talk to Ginny. _Ginny. _Oh, fuck. She still needed to report her. Should she go ahead and do that now? Probably. It was what she meant to do today before Malfoy started following her about. She hadn't meant to pull the idiot into that closet anyway, it had just happened. For some strange reason, she'd thought it would be a good place to have it out with the wanker. _You were obviously delusional. _She snorted at herself and balled the knickers up in her hand. Best go do her report while it was in her mind.

And then, in the depths of the fourth floor broom closet, Hermione Granger had an epiphany.

* * *

**Author's Note: Gratuitous Draco/Hermione. Enjoy. Or not. I did, and that's what matters!**


	19. Chapter 19: Vigilance and Unicorns

**Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise; all characters and ideas belong to J.K. Rowling.**

* * *

Hermione strode purposefully straight up to the door of McGonagall's office and knocked. Then she hunched her shoulders and put a small and frightened look on her face. She was a little nervous, because McGonagall had seen through her act the last time she'd been in her office, but this time it was different. She was here of her own free will. And she'd come up with a rather brilliant plan, if she did say so herself. 

The thing was, she'd never anticipated the need to have a confidant over this whole Draco mess. It wasn't something she'd expected to really _go _anywhere. Not that it was going anywhere, but the time for keeping things to herself was past. Oh, it was so past. She had, after all, let him, well…_touch _her. Even if she hadn't been thinking clearly, behavior that mental clearly warranted pursuing advice. And honestly, the only girl she could think of that would know about what she was going through was Ginny. So as much as she detested what the girl had done to her, the way she had _used _her, she also admitted (grudgingly) that she needed her. It hurt to admit that, but it was true. So here she was at McGonagall's office to enact the first part of an elaborate plan to get back into Ginny's good graces, and if Ginny knew what was good for her, damn it, she would go along with it in order to get back into Hermione's good graces, too.

Now, to enact the first part of the plan. She mustered up some tears just as her professor opened the office door. A look of concern and surprise flitted across her face as she took in the girl's appearance. Hermione, rather unfortunately, had forgotten to glance in a mirror after her time in the broom closet. However, as she was oblivious, McGonagall decided to ignore the obvious for the time being.

"Ms. Granger! What's the matter? Please, do come in," she stepped back and ushered Hermione inside, a comforting arm about her shoulders.

Hermione took the seat offered her and McGonagall situated her self behind her desk, glasses perched precariously low on her nose. When the girl across from her didn't speak at first, she flicked her wand and a pot of tea began to pour itself out into two delicate cups.

"Have some tea, Ms. Granger."

Hermione managed a small smile and wiped at her nonexistent tears. Eyes still bright, she looked up at the older woman. "Thank you, Professor," she murmured.

Minerva McGonagall's eyebrows rose so high they disappeared under the brim of her witch's hat. She'd never seen Hermione Granger quite this way before and she had to admit that it disturbed her. She also had to wonder what had put her in this state, if anything at all. Keeping her guard up, she nodded serenely and waited for the girl to begin speaking.

Luckily for Hermione, she was genuinely upset, albeit about what had happened with Draco earlier, and was able to maintain an expression of guilty confusion and sorrow. She looked up at her teacher and sniffed some. McGonagall's expression softened even further and Hermione took a deep breath. Surprisingly enough, or perhaps not surprisingly at all, considering who she was friends with, she had no problem lying to her professors. Opening her mouth, she proceeded to tell a whopper.

"Professor," she began, "I'm sure you remember the fight Harry was in last week."

McGonagall's expression hardened a bit and the older witch nodded sternly. Hmm. Perhaps she shouldn't have mentioned Harry. Oh, well. It was too late now. She forged ahead.

" Well, you mentioned then that if I or…a _friend_…were in trouble for some reason, nothing _particular, _then I ought to come forward and help them. By telling you, I mean."

She paused to see how McGonagall would react. The woman nodded again and smiled gently. "And I assume you have a friend in need of help after all, then?"

Hermione rushed on; this was it, any hope of a reconciliation with Ginny rested on what she said next and how her professor took it.

"My friend definitely needs help, Professor," she breathed, eyes suspiciously bright. "She's been, well, _misled_ by certain parties and is in an awful spot. I was only trying to cover up for her earlier with all those rumors and now the truth has come out; she's awfully frightened and afraid she might be expelled, you know. But I promised her I would talk to you. She's scared to come forward about her situation and I told her _you _would understand and not to worry, but she's waiting to hear from me before she says she'll come in…," Hermione let her voice trail off.

"I assume we're talking about Ms. Weasley?" McGonagall frowned at her over her glasses and Hermione hesitated.

"Well…yeah," she finished lamely.

"Go assure your _friend_, Ms. Granger, that I have no intentions of expelling her. And if she has been…_taken advantage _of, she has nothing at all to worry about. I should say it will be a sad state of affairs the day that Hogwarts punishes a girl for not realizing that teenage boys are generally after only one thing, even if they are wizards!"

Hermione hid a smile and ducked her head in agreement. "Yes, Professor," she murmured. Now, to escape and enact the second part of her plan. Unfortunately, as she tried to rise from her seat McGonagall pressed some more tea upon her. The aging professor then proceeded to lecture Hermione on the dangers of young love and letting teenaged wizards peek under your robes. Their intentions, McGonagall stressed, were not to be trusted no matter how sincere the boy might seem. By that point, Hermione's face was a rather pale and sickly color and she could only nod weakly. It was hard for to decide if she felt ill from holding back laughter or from the description of all the things a young wizard could do to a young witch if she did not have her guard up. Finally, though, after what seemed like _ages _listening to her professor's warnings about 'love gone wrong,' she was allowed to leave.

As she left, she was beginning to wonder what had brought on the sudden outpouring of concern from McGonagall when her professor stopped her briefly, a hand on her shoulder.

"I expect to see you back here this evening with young Ms. Weasley in tow," she said primly. Then, "And if I were you I would tuck my- your- _those_ away for the time being. It might be awkward wandering into dinner holding them," she whispered. "While I'm sure you're most fond of…_those_," she waved her hand vaguely, "They will not provide you with much protection in that state. Constant vigilance, Ms. Granger. _Constant vigilance!_" She smiled tersely, placing a finger by her nose and then shoving the girl outside.

The door closed behind Hermione with a click and she stood there confused for a moment before looking down. With a start and a blush, she realized that she had sat there in her professor's office, her torn knickers balled up in her hand the entire time. Her face flooded with heat and she paused only a moment before rushing off to the Gryffindor dormitory.

* * *

Hermione burst into the Gryffindor common room looking a fright. Luckily, it seemed no one was there right then and she prepared to go up to the girl's dorm. She really needed to take care of her appearance. Her hair was wild, her robes undone and in her hands she was clutching… 

"Hermione?" came Neville's voice. "Are those your…_knickers_?" The boy stood up quickly, dropping his books from his lap, a look of shock upon his face. He had been gesturing to some forgotten books lying on a side table, but the piece of cloth in her hands had distracted him. "Are you alright?" he asked, his brow furrowed a bit.

She whipped about to stare at him, mouth open in surprise. Hiding the offending item behind her back, she flushed deeply. "Er," she replied, shoving the garment in her pocket.

He looked away, his face a matching shade of pink, and awkwardly began to gather his books from the floor. "You seem in a hurry," he said in a conversational tone. A _strained _conversational tone. "Where are you off to? Anything I can help you with?" Then, realizing what he'd said, blushed again and dropped the books once again.

Hermione smiled a bit and knelt to help retrieve his things. "Actually, do you know where Ginny is? I need to talk to her."

Neville sighed in a discouraged manner and nodded. "Yeah, I saw her go upstairs earlier. About half past. She had someone with her," he finished glumly, gathering the last of his books. Hermione jumped up so fast that she knocked everything to the floor again.

"I have to go- sorry!" she called over her shoulder as she raced up the stairs to the girls' dorm. Neville stared after her sullenly.

"Yeah, sure," he replied to the empty common room. "I'll just be here. Picking up my things. Again." With a sigh he knelt once more.

* * *

Hermione didn't even bother knocking before she burst into Ginny's room. Ginny's roommates immediately jumped from their respective beds, protesting heavily, but Hermione only had to wave her wand threateningly and they scattered out the door, leaving her alone. 

Except she knew she was most definitely not alone. Stalking over to Ginny's bed, she ripped the curtains back to expose a half dressed Ginny and Seamus. Ginny gasped and snatched her robe up, desperate to cover herself, while the boy stared at Hermione's thunder filled face, frozen in shock.

"Silencing charms," Hermione smirked. "Nice, Ginny."

"Get out!" the redhead finally managed to shriek.

"Tell that to your _friend _here!" she retorted. "Does he know he's just a rebound? Does he _care_, Ginny?"

Ginny watched in horror as Hermione grabbed a stuttering Seamus by the scruff of his neck and, with an inhuman strength, dragged him to the door and flung him out and down the stairwell. At that, she began to cry.

"You didn't- _ungh_- have to- _ahuh- d_o that, Hermione!"

Hermione sat on the edge of Ginny's bed after slamming the door shut and handed the remainder of Ginny's strewn clothes to her.

"I did," she replied patiently. She was a bit surprised at the girl's reaction. _Then again, I don't see why. You knew she wasn't strong enough to deal with this mess on her own. _Hermione snorted at herself. _And what business is it of mine, again? _An image of a lustful Draco crossed her mind and she gave a guilty start. _Right. Forgot about that. Sorry. _

"Ginny, I have a proposition for you," she continued, trying to sound as pleasant and yet firm as she could at the same time. The redhead looked at her warily as she shrugged into her clothes.

"Why should I trust you? You _hate _me," she choked out and promptly began sobbing again. Hermione patted her shoulder awkwardly. Ginny didn't pull away.

Hermione felt her anger begin to melt. The girl really was pathetic. Deserved her pity more than anything. Kind of like Draco. She shook her head. _Focus, Hermione. You're here for yourself, too. _She smirked again. _I really am a bitch, aren't I? _

As Ginny continued to sniffle in a most pitiful manner, Hermione began to outline her plan.

When she was finished, Ginny looked at her warily, scooting away from her a bit. "So you want me to go with you when you report me?"

"No, no! You've missed the point! I've already reported you, technically. But I set it up so that McGonagall thinks the boy- or boys- were taking advantage of you. Which they technically were," she mused, as Ginny worked it through in her mind.

"So they'll get in trouble, and not me?"

"That's the idea."

Ginny looked at her dead on, her face a picture of slyness.

"Why?" she asked bluntly.

Hermione grimaced and shifted uncomfortably on the bed before standing up to pace. Finally she stopped and turned back to the girl that had gone from being her friend to the bane of her existence and back to…_friend_? Well, whether she was or not, right now she obviously needed some proof, something tradable that would guarantee Hermione's good wishes and loyalty. _Gods, I really must be damned desperate in order to do this to myself again, _she thought. _You are, _came the voice in her head. Shemade a decision.

"Ginny," she said, chewing her lower lip nervously, "I'm in a jam."

Ginny immediately understood, like the experienced teenaged witch she was. She leaned forward from her spot on the bed, watching Hermione with bated breath.

"Who?" she breathed.

* * *

Draco walked into his shared dorm room and flopped onto his bed. Well, actually, it was more like he fell gracefully onto the covers, but to a Malfoy that _was _flopping. He settled back onto his pillows with a satisfied smirk and propped his arms behind his head. His roommates stared at him strangely. 

"What?" he drawled, sitting up a bit.

They grunted at him and turned away. He settled back down with a contented sigh. While it wasn't nearly as good as he imagined the real thing would be, he had just had a very satisfying, very long, _very _steamy and hot bath. Satiated for the time being, he closed his eyes and smiled to himself.

Never in a million years would Draco Malfoy have guessed that Hermione Granger, insufferable know-it-all and brightest witch of her age, owned a pair of knickers with magically prancing unicorns all over them. Or that they were her _favorites_. Ah, the things a bloke did for love. Snorting at the memory, he rolled over and pulled the strip of photos from inside his charms book. As he watched himself ravish her neck and lips in the pictures, he chuckled to himself.

_Unicorns, _he mused. _Merlin. _

* * *

**Author's Note: I know, this chapter is shorter than most. I will try not to let the rush of the holidays affect my output again. Promise. **

**To** **_mofo: _I'm glad you enjoyed the scene so much! I'm trying very hard to make it a bit more amusing in parts and I'm happy I succeeded. (For one chapter, at least.) I'll try to keep them coming. Thanks! **


	20. Chapter 20: Confession Unawares

**Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise; all characters and ideas belong to J.K. Rowling.**

* * *

Hermione Granger was having to become increasingly observant that she was in great danger of _changing. _Of becoming a different person, in fact, and she wasn't entirely sure if she was displeased with said observation. Ginny Weasley had noticed the change almost immediately, which had made Hermione regret her brilliant plan almost as soon as the little redhead had spoken. Still, it was something worth contemplating. Quite often, she'd noticed, people simply changed without ever realizing it- which usually caused them nothing but trouble. So to have a change occurring and be able to consciously affect the change at the same time, well. That seemed a great boon, indeed.

The first change, obviously, was not lying in and of itself. She had been lying since she was a little girl. Granted, it was usually about stupid and selfish little things, a disliked food here; an unwanted Christmas gift there; not wanting to answer the phone when it was the aunt you hated…that sort of thing. Harmless stuff, really. But not now. No, the way she lied and the things she lied about were changing. It was the first thing she'd noticed, because she'd never been maliciously _deceptive _all on her own before. If she had been at all, it was with Harry or Ron or some such thing because they needed her help saving the world, as usual. But now she'd lied to Harry, Ginny, a professor and, well, pretty much _everyone_, and she wasn't certain she felt guilty. In fact, now that she thought about it specifically, she realized she didn't. Feel guilty, that was.

That realization brought her to the next change: how she perceived people and the reason she was making up with Ginny. She'd thought at first that she was just going to use Ginny, the way she herself had been used. But she realized, as she sat there next to her former best girl friend, that she felt not only pity for the girl, but also a certain kind of understanding. A sort of empathy for the fact that the girl was acting out against the fact that she could never be with the one: that one boy that she truly loved and cared for above all things. Now, Hermione also had the common sense to know that young love is not the be all and end all of relationships, and that Ginny would eventually spring back. She was also sensible enough to know that recovery from a broken heart was partly why Ginny was doing…whatever. It may have been a little extreme and she may have stepped on more than a few toes in the process, but was it any different from what Hermione was doing with Harry and Draco? In fact, that was a change she didn't particularly want to address at the moment, so she lingered on friendships.

At any rate, the point was that Hermione had learned a very important lesson about forgiveness and patience. She'd discovered, as so many people do at some point in their lives, that a person's reasons for doing bad things and making mistakes don't matter so much in the light of day because everyone makes mistakes and does things they aren't proud of; and never really mean to hurt those they care for (even though they do it anyway). After all, if one couldn't count on family and friends to forgive oneself all wrongs, who would? She was quite certain that if she dug into her past far enough she would find things there that she didn't really want to remember. So, it was with kindly eyes that she looked upon her former friend and realized, with soft surprise, that she felt a sort fondness and kinship for her still, underneath the layers of confusion and hurt. And if fondness could still exist after everything Ginny had done, after being _used_ for so long, then she was also sure that she didn't really mean to use Ginny at all. At least, not in the sense that she'd first set out to. Thus, it was with some seriousness that she informed Ginny that even though things wouldn't ever be quite the same between them; and she was very sorry about Harry, but she couldn't help him liking her; she still wanted to be friends, as long as Ginny would help her and stop behaving in such a ridiculous manner.

Ginny sniffled and wiped her eyes again.

"Why should I? You won't even tell me who this boy is that you need my help with!"

Hermione sighed. Change was all well and good, she supposed, but Ginny's ability to notice it in others obviously didn't extend to her own person.

"Ginny Weasley," Hermione began, quite seriously, "You need to stop this right now. I refuse to tell you exactly who it is because it doesn't need to be told. Just because I need your help doesn't mean you need the details. On top of that, I don't have to be here at all, seeing as how forgiveness isn't something the Weasleys think they need, apparently. So you can go on and get a different best friend, if anyone will have you, because unless you agree to do things my way this time, that's what you'll be doing," she finished smartly, and stood up. While she had every intention of having Ginny back, she wasn't going to sit there and be a baby about it if the girl didn't want her help.

Ginny jumped up. "Hermione! You can't mean that…"

Oh, gods. She was whining, now. Hermione calmly turned around and looked the girl up and down.

"I do," she said clearly.

Ginny's face crumpled again. "I'm sorry, Hermione. You can't know how very sorry I am about all this. I know I owe you ten thousand apologies and none of them will ever be good enough. I just- I just couldn't come tell you all that and tell you why I was doing it and what was actually going on because, well…it was too hard." The girl looked away. "By the time I realized what was going on it was too late and you'd already been hurt by it all. How could I face you after getting you into that mess? I was completely ashamed of myself. And my mum! I couldn't let her find out, you know! I just couldn't bear the thought of everyone knowing," she finished softly, looking at Hermione with pleading eyes.

Hermione looked away, a tad coldly because she had to stay serious about this whole thing until she was sure of Ginny's loyalties. There was still an element of distrust between them: one which would probably exist until many years into the future when they both found the loves of their lives and were happily married with babies and careers. Hermione understood that, but she still wanted Ginny to need her now, to understand what she was trying to do for her.

The redhead looked at her again, searchingly. "I want to make it up to you, Hermione."

"It won't be easy," Hermione warned her.

"I know that. Making up for a mistake like the one I've made is never easy. Trust me," she laughed, "I know a bit about making up for mistakes. I have six brothers!"

Hermione laughed then, too. Of course, forgiveness must be an understood thing in the Weasley household. It probably wasn't ever something they had to actually ask for, because they were family and they would get over it eventually. _In that respect, I'm good for them! _She smiled a little and her former friend grinned back at her timidly.

"Forgive me someday, Hermione?"

"Maybe," she replied, and the other girl's face fell a bit, but then perked back up.

"Well, best tell me what you want me to do."

Hermione grinned this time, pleased with the response, and explained the plan once more as they made their way down the stairs to the common room. Neville was still there and he looked up, stunned, when they walked in together.

"Hermione! And…Ginny?" he managed.

"Hello, Neville," Ginny said. Neville turned a bright shade of red and dropped some of his books.

His misfortune did not escape Hermione's watchful eye, and she looked from him to Ginny thoughtfully, before bending down to help with his books. Ginny knelt beside her and together they gathered his things and deposited them in his arms again. He looked down at them both, sputtering a little.

"Going to dinner?" he asked, regaining his power of speech.

"Yeah," Hermione responded. "Well, after we stop at McGonagall's office. Care to come with?" she asked casually. Neville's face brightened a bit, but Ginny tugged at her sleeve.

"What are you doing?" Ginny hissed in her ear.

"Letting you make it up to me," she returned, and the other girl fell glumly silent.

"It's just that what Ginny has to do might be a bit difficult for her and she could use the extra support," she said in an aside to Neville. His face became grave and nodded.

"Of course I'll come," he said, and immediately dropped his books again. He gestured and they girls preceded him out of the common room and down to Professor McGonagall's offices.

* * *

Hermione pushed Ginny forward to knock on their professor's door and the girl made a timid rapping on the wood. The door flew open and McGonagall looked upon them both before stepping aside and ushering Ginny inside.

"I'd like to speak to her alone if you don't mind, Ms. Granger," she said. "But you're welcome to wait outside."

Hermione nodded and stepped back. The door closed and the last image she had was of the carefully frightened face of Ginerva Weasley. She hid her grin behind a hand and Neville looked at her oddly.

"What is it?" he asked.

She shook her head and took her hand down. "Nothing. Just, well, I'm a little worried for her. I'm not sure if I coach- er, informed her enough on what to expect. McGonagall seems to have a fondness for lecturing young witches on the dangers of spending too much time with teenage wizards." She smiled apologetically at Neville. "I got an earful myself, this afternoon."

He smiled back, a bit nervously. "How long will she be?"

"Dunno," she responded. "Sorry to make you wait."

"Oh, it's no problem at all," he replied. "I'm glad to, if I can help Ginny at all." He was staring ahead of himself quite seriously and Hermione felt a little swell of triumph. Neville was such a good person. He was always kind and respectful; just the sort of boy a girl like Ginny needed on her side. He had been the only one who hadn't shunned her outright and she knew for a fact that he hadn't been avoiding and talking about her, _or_ Ginny, the way the other kids had. The only reason he hadn't been around much was because they all had different schedules and Ginny just assumed everyone hated her now.

Hermione let out a little sigh and looked down at her shoes. She felt so very old, all of the sudden. And she was only sixteen! How on earth did that happen? _Change may be good, and I really can't argue against maturing…but it's difficult to do. _Indeed, it was. Maturing meant seeing things in a different light and knowing that everyone else still had years to go before they would ever share your view. It meant having knowledge that no one would listen to for years; it meant being different and having more responsibility towards your fellow man. She sighed again. _Is this what growing up is like? _A tiny part of her didn't want to. That part wanted to stay a little girl, in school, learning things that would never help her in real life, that wouldn't get her a job, or teach her how to cope with other human beings. But she recognized the futility of that wish. There was a war coming. There was death and hopelessness in her future and the sooner she accepted that, the sooner she could deal with it in a responsible manner.

Her mind wandered to the prediction Lavender had made a week earlier. Whether she believed in divination or not, the thought that she would be married twice- a widow once- chilled her. It chilled her to the very bone. It was a silly child's game, she knew, but it somehow brought home the realities of the future in a raw and unsettling way. War. Who could think about N.E.W.T.s at a time like this? Why even bother making plans for a career? She knew she should feel ridiculous With a start, she felt the beginnings of a panic attack and turned to look at Neville.

"Um, I have to go to the loo. I'll be back in a minute," she said hurriedly and took off down the hall. She ran with all her might, trying to beat her tears to the restroom. _Please not in public, not in public! _

Without warning, she ran headlong into someone, bowling them over and hurrying on towards the second floor. Somewhere no one would bother her.

Draco Malfoy stood up and brushed himself off. He looked after her curiously before realizing who it was and taking off himself.

"No running in the halls, Granger!" he called.

She ran faster. _Not him, anyone but him, anyone but him! _Tears were spilling over her eyes already and her breath was coming shorter and faster, slowing her down ever so slightly. Slightly enough that Draco reached out and grabbed the collar of her robe. She fell back against him with a whumph and he turned her about. She threw the edge of her robe up over her face. He tried to drag it back down and she bit him.

"Ow! Granger!"

Then she kicked him in the shin and while he was hopping about on one foot, she pulled open the door of the loo.

"Not so fast, mudblood!" he sneered and had just laid a hand on her shoulder when they both heard voices coming around the corner.

"I said no, Ron!"

"But what if I-"

"Look, it's up to Hermione, I already told you!"

"But-"

"No!"

The pair stopped short when they saw Malfoy and Hermione. It took Ron only a split second to realize it was Hermione and Harry even less time to know she'd been crying.

"Get you hands off her, you slimy git!" Ron shouted and started forward, with murderous intentions.

Even Draco knew when he'd been bested and he took his hand from her shoulder.

"Well, well. Potter and Weasley. To what do I owe this honor?"

"What did you do to her?" Harry bit out through clenched teeth. "I thought I told you to stay away from her," he finished, hands turning into fists.

Draco started to back away, but thought better of it. Best to stand his ground every once in a while.

"He didn't do anything!" came a weepy voice behind him. As much as she wanted to run away from the situation, she knew that lying about what was happening just then was something that _would _make her feel guilty. She decided to figure out what the ramifications of that discovery were later on. _Really avoiding that other change you're going through, aren't you? _She ignored the voice in her head and turned her attention to the situation at hand.

"Hermione!" Ron wrenched out. "You're crying!"

She wiped her face and stared him down. "Am I? How astute of you to notice, _Ronald_." She sniffed. "And I don't recall asking for your help. Now go away!"

Ron looked at her, opened his mouth as if to speak, thought better of it, and turned around. "If I find out you did something…" he began to threaten Draco.

"You'll what, Weasel? I'm not the one that caused her months of torment," he spat back.

"More like years, coming from you, Malfoy!" Ron responded angrily.

Draco found he couldn't really argue with that, which only made him more angry. He was about to take a swing at the other boy when Hermione suddenly did something rather extraordinary. She laid a hand on his shoulder in plain view of the other two boys.

Then she did something even more extraordinary. She called him by his name.

"Not here, Draco. Let it pass. You're both right about one another and I really don't want to have more reporting to do. It's been hard enough to deal with Ginny. Please, just _stop_."

Draco was so surprised, so _happy_, that he lowered his fists and Harry's came up.

"What's going on, Hermione?" Harry asked suspiciously. She looked at him, startled.

"I'm stopping a fight because I don't want to have to deal with it. _And neither do you,_" she finished heatedly. Her eyes were accusing and Harry stepped back.

"Now, if none of you has anything more to say, I'd appreciate it if you all went your separate ways." She stood there and waited, tears still shining on her face, arms across her chest, face set in a frown. Ron wandered off first, looking over his shoulder every few seconds. That left Draco and Harry facing off with one another until she squeezed Draco's shoulder gently. He looked at her, confused and a bit hurt that she'd rather have Potter with her, but he left too.

Harry stood a few steps away and Hermione looked at him expectantly.

"What was all that?" she asked.

"Oh, you mean Ron?" She nodded at him. "He was trying to apologize. I told him he needed to talk to you first."

"I see." Her voice was cold.

"Well, what was that?" he asked in return, a bit indignant.

"You mean Draco?" Harry's eyes glinted and she frowned again, wiping more tears from her face. "None of your business."

"Hermione! I've all but asked you to be my girl! I think it's my business," he finished.

"But you haven't," she responded as haughtily as she could.

His mouth dropped open. "What? You want me to actually ask you proper?"

"Of course! What's the point otherwise?"

"But you won't even talk to me about what happened last week at the carnival- how do I know what you'll say?"

"You don't," she finished primly, pleased with herself in spite of the panic she still felt in her gut.

Harry groaned and hung his head. "You'll be the death of me, Hermione Granger," he muttered.

"On the contrary, I've already saved your life several times," she said, enjoying the power she so obviously held over the Boy Who Lived. "Now, while you make up your mind, I have business to attend to." With that, she swept into the restroom and locked herself in a stall to have a good cry. She deserved a good cry. As an added bonus, Moaning Myrtle didn't even come out to bother her and she was most appreciative of the silence.

* * *

Harry was still standing there when she exited the loo some minutes later. She looked him up down. He was leaning with his back against the wall, a look of intense concentration upon his face. A smile lit across his face when he saw her and she smiled back tentatively.

"Made up your mind?"

He nodded slowly, as if putting the words together in his mind.

"I'm not going to ask you yet," he said finally. She looked a little surprised and he went on, "I'm not asking you yet because I'm pretty sure you've got a lot on your mind right now. Well, so do I." She nodded for him to continue. "I know what everyone says about taking advantage of every moment you have to live life to the fullest, but I think in this case," he paused, weighing his words, "I think that we both want different things right now and it wouldn't be fair to either of us to press the issue. What do you say?"

Oh, _Harry. _Hermione could barely stand it, he was so wonderful. She told him so and he blushed to the tips of his ears. He reached for her hand.

"Dinner?"

"I have to go collect Ginny from McGonagall, first," she replied, considerably happier than she had been earlier.

It was Harry's turn to look surprised and he almost dropped her hand. "Ginny?"

"We're making up, sort of," she said cautiously. He frowned a bit, but didn't say anything. First Malfoy, now Ginny…what was a boy supposed to think about all of that? _Well, for starters, it's none of your business. She was right about that, _he told himself. Still. It was a bit unsettling. He looked over at her as they walked. That bushy hair. Those pink cheeks. The promise they held made him want to fly to Timbuktu and back again. For, as much as he worried about the future as well, he still found time to acknowledge the beauty in his life. The trials that lay before him were things that had to be taken one day at a time, or else he knew he wouldn't survive to the next morning- the stress of it all would be too much. There was a distinctly medicinal property to taking time out for the good things in life and if there ever was a good thing left in his, she was one of them.

"I'll wait for you," he muttered softly. Hermione glanced at him, understanding that he wasn't talking about explanations.

"I know." Then, moments later, came an equally soft, "Thank you."

* * *

Neville looked relieved to see them. As much as he cared for Ginny, he didn't want to be the only person there when she came out bawling, as he felt sure she would. It was strange when girls cried. One could never tell whether they were happy or sad and what would be more appropriate: a hug, or an awkward, but manly, pat on the back?

"Ginny's not done yet?" Hermione asked him. He shook his head.

"No, but I could hear some crying earlier. At least, I though I did-," he was interrupted by the door opening.

McGonagall shooed Ginny out with a pat on the back and a handkerchief in the hand. "Better get to dinner, now. And don't worry about anything, Ms. Weasley. I will take care of everything. I'm going to go speak to the headmaster now," she finished, sweeping away back into her inner sanctum. The door closed with a bang and the four of them stood their, staring at one another.

Ginny's eyes flickered a little when she saw Harry holding fast to Hermione's hand, but she decided to ignore it for the time being. After all, she'd always known that when Harry didn't have eyes for Cho, he was watching Hermione. It had never been herself and though she would never admit she knew that to Hermione, she also knew it was high time she got over such a lost cause. Neville offered her his arm.

"All done?" he inquired politely and she nodded to him. She looked to his proffered arm, frowning. Neville caught it and smiled gently.

"Oh, come on, Ginny. I never believed any of that garbage about you, just like I didn't about Hermione. We simply don't have any classes together and I never see you anymore. Besides," he looked at her a bit sternly, "I couldn't very well tell you that when you avoided everyone like the plague."

The redhead ducked her head sheepishly, blinking swiftly several times before looking up at him again. "Thanks, Neville."

Turning to Hermione she said, "It went really well. You'd be proud." She winked and began to walk away with Neville.

"Proud of what?" Hermione heard Neville ask, and she smirked to herself. Dinner looked like it would be interesting, indeed. She and Harry turned to follow the other pair to the great hall.

* * *

Draco frowned as he watched the pair walk away, heading back to McGonagall, from his hideout around the corner. Why was it killing him to see her with Potter that way? Every time the other boy was gentle with her, or _tender_, it made his heart ache. He glared down at his chest and beat at it a few times, trying to will it to stop hurting. He followed after them a short way until he came to the door of the restroom. He opened it and slipped inside. So she'd meant to have a good cry. He wasn't sure why the thought of her sitting there, alone in a loo, crying her eyes out, bothered him so much. It really oughtn't to, but it did just the same. He frowned even more until he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and realized how terrible frowning was for him. Smoothing his face out, he glanced about. One of the stall doors was open a bit and he peered in. Myrtle was sitting there on a toilet, murmuring softly to herself, making soft weeping noises.

"Poor little muggleborn…never get through the day…too much to do, too much to take on," she paused and blew her nose noisily. Draco started to shift his weight uncomfortably, but stopped himself. Myrtle looked up at the motion.

"Oh! What are you doing here? She wouldn't like it very much, would she?"

He kept his surprise to himself. "You know that girl?"

"Oh, yes. She and I are great friends, you know." She stopped, looking around as if checking to see if anyone was listening, and leaned towards him. "Harry Potter likes her, you know," she whispered.

Draco frowned again. "I know," he said stiffly.

"But she doesn't know what to do because you're confusing her," she added conspiratorially, looking like the cat that ate the cream.

He stepped back a bit as Myrtle floated from the stall. "Confusing her how?"

Myrtle sniffed. "You keep kissing on her and she's not sure how to react."

"She already reacts quite well," Draco responded coolly. Was it possible Myrtle was just messing with him ,having a joke on Hermione's behalf?

"She knows that," Myrtle giggled. "It's what she's so confused about. Besides, there's a war coming,' she said, suddenly quite grave in her appearance. It made Draco want to laugh.

"She's worried about the war? She should be," he replied.

"She _is_!" Myrtle was indignant and flew at him, making him run to the other side of the room. "I've been listening to her talk to herself for ages now," she said, settling down on the window ledge happily. "First when that horrid business with the sex scandal happened, now about boys and the war…," Myrtle sighed to herself. "She's got an awful lot of troubles, Hermione does."

"What about the war bothers her?" he asked, unable to stanch his curiosity. If the girl wouldn't talk to him directly, he'd have to learn about her through other avenues. Unorthodox avenues, granted, but information was information, no matter the source.

"Oh, everything, you know," the ghost waved her hand vaguely.

"But what, specifically?"

"Well…do you really want to know?"

Draco practically jumped up to the window with her. "Yes!"

Myrtle bristled a bit. "Well there's no need to shout," she complained.

"Sorry," he replied. That also made him want to laugh. Or cry, he wasn't sure which. Apologizing to a ghost because they were the only one who'd tell you anything about the girl you liked? Pathetic.

Myrtle looked mollified. "She thinks she might die, you know. She knows that she and her friends are part of the war in a way that other people won't be. It's going to be very dangerous for them, you know."

Draco felt his stomach pitch into his throat. She thought she would die? As if he would ever let that happen! He would protect her…_oh. _He couldn't really, could he? An image of her being tortured by death eaters, perhaps even by a member of his own family, crossed his mind. It was the first time he'd really considered the ramifications of the feelings he had for her and he suddenly felt queasy.

"Are you okay? You look like you'll be sick."

"Fine," he mumbled. "Just need to sit for a moment." Myrtle nodded wisely and he sank to the floor.

"Well, she is also worried about what happens if she doesn't die. Studying for tests and trying to figure out what it is she wants to do isn't easy when she's so concerned with helping Harry and all,' she continued. "I told her once that I could help Harry instead, but she laughed at me. Can you imagine?" The ghost was huffing a little angrily, but Draco waved a hand.

"Go on, please," he said weakly.

"She likes you too, you know," Myrtle said suddenly. "She never said it, but I can tell. I am a girl, after all," she said, preening a bit.

Draco looked up, surprise flickering across his face. "She does?" He practically leapt to his feet, all illness gone and replaced with irrational hope.

"Of course! It's the way she talks about you. She thinks it's just pity, but I know different. She's awful sorry about it, because she keeps saying she can't be with you, but I-," Myrtle suddenly looked up at the sound of the restroom door closing. She was alone again.

"But I wasn't finished! Come back!" she called, desperate for company. The loo could be very lonely at night. She looked about as the lights dimmed into black and called again.

No one answered.

* * *

**Author's Note: Happy Christmas! **

**To _mofo: _It won't blow up in her face, I promise. This thing is torturous enough as it is. :D **


	21. Chapter 21: The Talk

**Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise; all characters and ideas belong to J.K. Rowling.**

* * *

Dinner was, indeed, interesting. The entire Gryffindor table was hushed except for those seats which housed Hermione and her friends. It seemed as if everyone was poised, waiting to see what was going on with Hermione and Ginny. One wrong move from either one and the whole thing could tip against the youngest Weasley. Still, despite the atmosphere of gloom, the girls behaved in a relaxed manner. Chatting, passing peas, exchanging Charms tips. Harry and Neville exchanged more than one uncomfortable glance with one another while waiting for…well, whatever it was the girls were waiting for. Because they were waiting for something, there was no doubt of that. They kept casting surreptitious glances at the professor's table, as if expecting some sort of announcement to be made.

Finally, however, dinner was nearly over and dessert had been served. There came a clanging from the professor's table and Dumbledore stood up to make an announcement. All eyes turned to him, surprised. Only three people in the hall appeared calm: Hermione, Ginny, and of course, McGonagall. The two girls had satisfied looks on their faces as the hall went quiet, waiting for their headmaster to speak. Their satisfaction did not escape a pair of grey eyes, however. With a small smirk, Draco wondered what his favorite lioness had gotten up to this time.

* * *

When Draco had first arrived in the great hall mere minutes after the four friends, he'd immediately slowed to scan the Gryffindor table for their faces. After what Moaning Myrtle had said to him, all he'd wanted to do was run to Hermione and drag her away from her knight and protector, Potter. He'd wanted nothing better than to declare to the whole school that he knew how she felt about him and that he returned the feeling. Then maybe follow that up with a good beating for all her foolish girly morals and an even better shagging afterwards.

However, as much as he wanted to do all those things, he'd stopped himself when he saw her sitting there amid all her allies, all her friends- in as much as they could be called friends. It made his heart do that little aching thing again and before he'd realized what he was doing, he'd found himself turning away again. What had he been thinking? This was Granger, after all. The mudblood. The girl who'd rejected him more than once now, in spite of his best moves. What _was _he thinking?

She was snappy and rude and unkempt and…and the truth was that she may very well be killed by death eaters in the coming war. And the thought scared all hope from him, leaving him visibly shaken. He didn't know why it had never occurred to him before, but he knew he needed to talk with her about it. He knew he needed to talk with her about many more things than imminent death, of course- _who said it was imminent? _But it would have to wait, for now. He couldn't bring himself to face her, somehow. Not until he'd considered the problem some more. Not until he'd considered his feelings. Then, maybe, he could talk some sense into her. After all, surely his views weren't all bad. The fact that she might die by his hands wasn't his fault, was it? No, it was hers, for being on the wrong side. For believing the wrong things. Not that he really blamed her much for that. She was a mudblood, after all. Which side did he expect her to be on? If she just turned herself in to the Dark Lord she'd probably be killed on the spot anyhow. Another wrench ran through his heart and he turned on his heel. After dinner, after dessert. _After the war, _he thought sardonically. Then, maybe, he could talk to her about these things.

_She won't let it sit that long, _the voice in his head told him. He knew it was true. She'd approached him once already- _today, no less! _And it was highly unlikely that she would let sleeping dogs lie. She wasn't really the kind of girl to let anything go, no matter how many times a bloke made it obvious that talking was the last thing on his mind. He groaned a little into his pumpkin juice and Goyle looked at him askance. Or was it askew? Draco wasn't really sure at this point, his head was so full of thoughts that he had barely paid attention to the fact that he'd sat down and already eaten his way through half a plate of food. He glanced about to make sure no one else was staring at him. No, only Pansy.

Then he caught it. A flash of honeyed brown eyes in his direction just as Dumbledore stood up. He nearly choked on his juice and Goyle did look at him outright, then, patting him on the back in a concerned manner. He waved him off and gestured toward the front of the hall. He wanted to hear what the old war horse had to say as much as the next person.

Dumbledore stood, looking most determined. After waiting a few moments for everyone to quiet down, he looked about and began speaking.

"Friends," he started out, "it has come to my attention that a certain student amongst us has recently been in a very difficult position. I would like to give you the details myself, but as it was Professor McGonagall who brought the situation to my attention, I believe she is most suited to address you all on the subject." He turned to the witch. "If you please, Professor," he said, and returned to his seat.

McGonagall rose and faced the students, a grim expression upon her face. "It is with great disappointment that I speak to you this evening," she began. If it was possible, her face grew even more grim and forbidding. "I have already appraised the heads of all your houses on the matter, in addition to speaking to the prefects. You will all take part in a separate meeting within your houses to better inform you on the matter at hand." She paused, as if looking for something within the audience of students. A guilty party, perhaps? Draco shifted in his seat a bit, hoping she would get on with it.

"The facts are simple: a female student has recently been prey to rumors about inappropriate behavior. However, in spite of what you've all been led to believe, she is not at fault and was instead taken advantage of by a certain group of young wizards!"

There was a gasp and a ripple of turning heads passed down the Gryffindor table. Hermione was having to work very hard indeed, now, to keep from preening. Ginny was appropriately flushed with embarrassment and shame. The redhead blinked quickly several times, bringing tears to her eyes. Everyone at the table began to mutter amongst themselves and more than one boy began to look distinctly uncomfortable, while the girls wore carefully sculpted looks of shock and pity upon their faces. Hermione glanced at them with distaste. She didn't feel an ounce of remorse that Ginny was playing a part. After all, she had been genuinely hurt by the boys' behavior, whether she acknowledged it or not; and if she was acting now, it was no more or less than what any other person at the rest of the table was doing. They were playing out the same false sympathy they had shown herself last week. An idea suddenly glinted in her mind, no bigger than a wisp, but she held onto it as she turned to finish listening to her professor.

"I speak for the other professors when I say that this kind of behavior and treatment of your fellow students will not be tolerated! Now, we are giving the guilty parties a chance to come forward and turn yourselves in to be appropriately disciplined. With that said, I will allow your house heads to speak to you on the subject further. Thank you all."

The older witch sat down again and the other professors turned and nodded approvingly at her. There was no clapping though, only a quiet return to finishing up dessert and then hurrying off after the prefects in order to reach the house meetings on time. Hermione finished up quickly, ignoring the accusing stares from Harry and Neville. She stood up, brushing off her robe, and gestured at the rest of the table.

"Come along, everyone!" She clapped her hands a few times and the other prefect joined her in rounding people up. As they moved towards the doors of the hall, she glanced over to the Slytherin table once more. She could hear Draco's clear tenor calling for people to follow him. He looked up suddenly and caught her eye. She looked away swiftly and stumbled out the door. The boy at her side smiled.

"Alright there, Hermione?"

"Fine," she muttered. "Come on, people! We haven't got all night!"

Draco watched as she tripped over an invisible menace and smirked. Maybe there was hope for him, after all. He'd been amused enough at the stunt she'd managed to pull with the old bat. Getting a Weasley out of a jam had to be some kind of gift, because she'd done it more than once now, and with more than one kind of Weasel. He smirked again, then pounced on his house mates.

"Oy, scum! Get a move on! I don't want to have to wait on your arses all night, do I?" The doors to the great hall banged shut after their retreating line and the students made their way back to their respective houses with a minimum of fuss. The quiet during those moments was more than made up for, however, when the students soon discovered that the details they were being fed by their house heads was actually the sex talk. Except in their cases, most did not have a sympathetic ear to turn to because before the night was over, deafness and blindness charms and potions were trading hands in more than one common room.

Draco himself had to wank off to his pictures of Hermione no less than four times that night before he got the image of Snape rolling a rubber onto a banana out of his mind. He didn't even want to think about what kind of a talk Hermione was getting out of McGonagall, the old hag. _Merlin. _Now he had an image of said old hag and a banana in his head, and no amount of wanking off was going to do him any good with that one. With a groan, he reached for the dreamless sleep potion he kept in his bed stand and suddenly, _blessedly_, all was darkness.

* * *

Saturday dawned bright and early for most of the students at Hogwarts, who had almost all gone to bed with raging headaches and been plagued by nightmares and the screams of their peers.

Draco figured that whatever McGonagall had fed the Gryffindors last night must have worked, because there were at least three upperclassmen missing, that he counted. He noticed Hermione counting heads as well and smirked. _She must be rather pleased with her work_, he thought. And the young Weaselette certainly didn't look too much the worse for wear, excepting the few glares that a small group of girls kept sending her. _Must be the missing blokes' admirers, _he observed, filled with revulsion. There was always some girl, _somewhere_, who thought that wife beating, girl assaulting, child molesting sons of bitches were attractive. He'd never understood the need for some women to be _beneath _men. Or how being treated like carpets made them feel like princesses. He wanted to take girls like that by the shoulders and give them good shakes.

His eyes met Hermione's over the crowd of bleary eyed students and they held a similar, steely determination that matched his own. He narrowed his eyes and turned away to continue counting Slytherins, hoping to the gods that she didn't empathize with those girls. No, she must not. Not his mudblood. She was too smart, too fiery, too sure of herself to fall prey to mind games. He cast another glance at her over his shoulder and found her talking with Potter. He recalled the knee to his junk she'd given him the other week and winced. It was no wonder Potter kept her around; she could certainly hold her own. No, she wasn't weak. In fact, she might just be his match. _In everything except blood, _he thought. A grim smile crossed his face. _And ethics._

Professor Jones clapped her hands together and raised one arm to get everyone's attention while McGonagall went through the crowd collecting newly signed permission forms.

"Right then," Jones said, "If we're all ready now, we'll be off to Hogsmeade! Everyone got their things with them? Money, jumpers, survival skills?"

McGonagall shot the DADA teacher a prim look and Jones lowered her hand, looking sheepish. "Sorry, kiddies. Old habits. Anyhow, we'll just be off then. Stay in your lines, keep a buddy with you at all times!"

With that, they were off on another weekend jaunt to Hogsmeade. Draco could see Hermione's curly brown hair bouncing up and down a ways ahead of him. A shock of shiny black hair walked next to her and he looked away, only to see Pansy at his side, looking up at him with big cow eyes. _Cow eyes? She _is_ a cow! _He sighed and doubled his pace, ignoring the cries of Crabbe and Goyle, who had doubled their efforts to rid the world of the poor girl. He glanced back and realized he's left his house behind and was now trailing along behind a few erstwhile Ravenclaws.

Up ahead, he could just see the bouncing, unruly locks of Hermione. No, best stay a ways behind for now. He'd finally managed to get some sleep the night before and the last thing he wanted to do was replace the other nightmares with ones of Hermione being tortured. Because he knew that if she did try to talk to him, he would eventually confront her about what Moaning Myrtle had told him. He wouldn't be able to stop himself from bringing it up, because what he wanted now was to convince her he would never hurt her, that he was alright, that he cared about her.

Watching her with Potter, though, made him feel helpless. How was he supposed to compete with that? With the Boy Who Wouldn't Fucking Give Up? It made him unsure of himself, something a Malfoy was never supposed to be. Something a real god would laugh at. Ah, well. It was probably a pipe dream. _Is it? Myrtle said- _he snarled to himself. _Myrtle is a ghost, nothing more. What can she possibly know? _

He scoffed to himself and looked away. With a start of surprise, he realized they had already reached the outskirts of Hogsmeade and without further ado, the students began to scatter and go their separate ways. Draco kept the girl and boy in his sights and followed them quietly, some ways behind them. They veered from the common path, the young Weasel and Longbottom following them. All four were chatting happily, seemingly unaffected by the stares and sidelong glances they received. Draco suddenly felt a presence along both sides of himself and he turned to look. Crabbe and Goyle were flanking him, looking a bit sheepish. A genuine smile crossed his face as he looked to them both. They returned it.

As touched as he was by their loyalty, he shook his head. "I need to do this by myself, boys."

They looked at him, confused. "Do what?"

He frowned and pulled his cap down further on his head. "Just…something. I need to spy on Potter and his friends for a while. Gather information. I won't be long," he said, by way of explanation. "Go wait for me at the Three Broomsticks."

The bigger boys nodded, still confused, but did as he asked. Draco had been acting strange lately, but they chalked it up to his involvement with the Dark Lord. Anyone would be a little put off by too much close contact with the wizard. No, they didn't blame him. But they did wonder, just a little bit, before distractions of girls and butterbeer filled their minds, what he was really up to. They'd caught him staring at the Granger girl in a strange manner more than once, and while she might be _alright _for a Gryffindor, a mudblood was a mudblood. Well, if they knew what one was, at least. They weren't always entirely sure. Still, it couldn't be something good, and that was all they really needed to know. Muttering to one another, they tromped into the tavern and took seats, ordering butterbeers and settling in to wait for Draco: their beloved, if a bit batty, leader.

* * *

**To _mofo_: I'm glad you liked it! **


	22. Chapter 22: Pride Goeth

**Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise; all characters and ideas belong to J.K. Rowling.**

* * *

Ginny and Hermione paired off almost immediately once the group reached the Shrieking Shack. It was a favorite look out point of anyone not scared enough to go near it, and the clearing provided a small amount of privacy to anyone seeking it. Harry and Neville watched them as they stood off by themselves, whispering and giggling intermittently. 

"What do you think they're talking about?" Neville asked Harry.

The other boy shrugged. "Dunno. I can never tell anymore. Hey, how'd you fare last night?"

Neville paled. "I had an awful nightmare, Harry. Right awful, it was."

Harry nodded in agreement. "I don't think I'll ever understand Hermione's reasons for doing that to us."

The two boys looked over at the girls again and exchanged miserable sighs.

Hermione was laughing. "Did you see the looks on everyone's faces?"

"Oh, yeah! It was brilliant, Hermione. Brilliant. I'm so glad we'd seen it already."

"I knew you would be," the brunette nodded sagely. Ginny slapped her on the back.

"Thanks, by the way."

Hermione looked at her thoughtfully, then smiled in return. "You're welcome," she replied. "Now, what are we going to do about the rest of it?"

"You mean your other idea? About paying people back?"

"Right."

"Oh, as for that, I've got loads of ideas. Hexes are my specialty, you know." The redhead grinned slyly at her friend and the other girl laughed.

"Do you have any idea how like Fred and George you just looked?"

Ginny preened, "Of course! I'm the new thorn in Mum's side, ever since George hired me on in the shop. Fred didn't approve at first, but he came around. Even Ron's worked there a few-," she stopped as a stony look crossed Hermione's face. "Oy, sorry," she said softly.

"No, it's alright, Ginny. He is your brother, after all."

"But he was pretty horrid to me, too. And the past few days he hasn't even talked to me! I'm so angry at him I could spit!"

"Really?" Another glint appeared in Hermione's eyes. "Maybe we should test our plans out on someone first. You know, to make sure they don't go awry…," she let her voice trail off.

Ginny caught on quickly. "Oh! Yes, I can see where that would be a very good idea, indeed. But we couldn't use just any old person. It would have to be someone who really deserved it."

"Right. Like…Ron."

"Now, how are we going to get to him? You know he's been on edge ever since the beating you gave him last week. He whips out his wand at the first sign of trouble!"

"Leave that to me, Ginny. I have a rather good idea about that." Hermione grinned wickedly and the redhead stared at her a moment before breaking out into laughter.

"You really have changed, Hermione, you know that?"

"I know." The timbre of the older girl's voice changed and became wistful. "I'm not quite sure what to make of it all. All this business with the rumors, now with the boys…it sends me for a loop, Ginny."

Ginny smiled softly and tucked an arm under hers. "It's okay, Hermione. You've somehow managed to come through all that horrid business I put you through alright. Harry was there for you, wasn't he? He really cares about you."

Hermione snatched her arm back. "You don't know that. He's as fickle as anything- first Cho, then you, now me. I don't know what he really wants, no matter what he says." She spoke over Ginny's protests. "Oh, I know he's wonderful and he's been terribly mature about the whole thing, but it doesn't make any sense to me! I'm more inclined to believe Mal-," she stopped dead and turned to look at Ginny nervously. "I just don't know what to believe, is all," she finished lamely.

The other girl either hadn't noticed the slip of her tongue or didn't care, because she grabbed for Hermione's hands and held them tight. "I've been watching Harry for as long as I've known him, and you know what? He's always been watching someone else. She's a pretty, smart, clever girl who's always been right by his side and even if he didn't know how he felt about her at first, he knows now." Hermione tried to remove her hands, but Ginny kept a firm grasp on them.

"Who brought you fresh flowers every week when you were turned into stone? Who sat by your bedside and talked to you like you could hear? Who always saves a place for you on the Hogwarts train and treats you like an equal and never questions your right to be here, next to him, fighting? Who asks you for help first when he's having trouble, or saves the last chocolate frog for you even though you hate the things? Do you know, one year I even saw him go through your bag of Bertie Botts Every Flavored Beans, picking out all the disgusting ones! He's never been anything but courteous and kind and caring towards you- well, except when he's a total prat, but _all_ boys are at _some_ point- and he always sticks up for you, no matter who the bully is. I think he'd do anything for you, Hermione."

"Ginny…!" The older girl ripped her hands away and began to walk along the tree line, taking them farther from the boys.

"Hermione Granger, what is the matter with you?"

"What's the matter with you, Ginny?" Hermione shot back. "Why are you suddenly advocating for Harry on my behalf?"

The other girl stopped and grabbed Hermione's shoulder, turning her around to face her.

"He's a good wizard and he deserves a good witch. And if I can't have him, I'd rather he was at least happy. You're what he deserves, Hermione, and he really likes you. I can tell."

Hermione sighed and kicked at the light dusting of snow that lay on the ground. "I know he does," she muttered.

"Then what's the problem?" Ginny asked, crossing her arms. "Malfoy?"

Hermione's head shot back up and she glared at her friend. "So you heard."

"Oh, please, Hermione. You've both been mooning like calves over each other. You were a little harder to figure out, but it's obvious he likes you. I suspect he's liked you for about as long as Harry has." She rolled her eyes, as if it wasn't a big deal.

"I do not like Draco!' Hermione said, indignant. "He's a right git! Always kissing me at just the wrong moment- he's been chasing me about for the last week and I don't know what to do!" she wailed.

"You just called him Draco," Ginny pointed out. "I'd say you must feel something for him."

"Yeah, _loathing_."

"Unadulterated?" Ginny inquired sweetly, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, sod off!" Hermione scowled, and began tromping off once more.

After a few moments of walking in silence, Hermione turned to Ginny once more.

"Is it really that obvious?" she asked nervously.

"Oh, absolutely," Ginny replied.

"Do you think Harry knows?" Hermione fretted.

"He has no idea," Ginny sang.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. That was good, at least.

"Why don't we go over those revenge plans a little more," Ginny suggested, a twinkle in her eye. "It'll take your mind off things. And," she added, "when you're ready to talk it over, let me know. Those two problems aren't going to just go away."

"I know," Hermione groaned, and the two girls settled into hatching a set of elaborate and well developed plans for tormenting Gyffindor house. The best thing about it? No one would suspect a pair of Gryffindors to be behind the suffering of their own house. Thus, their revenge plans equaled total immunity. The girls cackled with glee and went to it.

From no more than a few yards away, Draco sat, perched behind an outcropping of rocks in the woods behind them. He'd followed the group down the small path from Hogsmeade to the look out on the Shack and from there, watched both groups for a while. When the girls had started moving away from the boys, it had made sense to follow them. After all, Hermione was the one he cared about. From his new vantage point, peering out over the small crag, he could see and hear almost everything they were up to.

_So, _he thought, _Potter is crazy about her but she won't really return his affections because she likes me? Why doesn't she just say so, then? What's holding her back? If it were me in her place…_but no, he realized he really couldn't say that. There was no comparison to their lives. There never could be. He was the favored prince of the purebloods and the house of Slytherin and she, while the favored princess of Gryffindor, was still a mudblood. She had the whole world against her, although, he admitted freely, sometimes it seemed like she had things easier than he did. She always scored well, always won points- except around Snape- and she and those ragtag friends of hers always triumphed against evil. He scoffed a bit. _In as much as we are evil, _he thought. He knew that was the public perception of his kind, so it was easier to refer to themselves as such. Otherwise he'd waste hours arguing with himself about questions of utilitarianism.

He glanced back the way they had come and realized they were out of sight of Potter and Longbottom. Could he approach her now? Would she let him? Would the Weaselette let him? He smirked. Not that either of them had the choice. He was going to talk to her today whether she liked it or not. He stood up, sending a bird that had perched nearby squawking up into the trees.

* * *

The two girls looked over into the woods at the sound. 

"Do you see anything?" Hermione asked, on her guard.

"It was just a bird, silly," Ginny replied, and they turned back to their plans.

Draco chose that moment to step from the shadows into the clearing. "I resent that, Weasley," he drawled.

The two girls whipped about to face him. A look of fleeting terror ran across Hermione's face and was gone just as quick.

"What are you doing here, _Malfoy_?" she spat.

He smirked at her. "Isn't it obvious, Granger? I'm here to profess my undying love for you and use my charming manner to get you to join the dark side."

"Good luck with that!" Hermione barked out, laughing. "If you intend on relying on your charming ways only, you'll be talking an awfully long time."

Draco flashed a languid smile in return. "Any means possible, actually." She recoiled somewhat and Ginny tugged on her sleeve.

"I'm pretty sure he was being sarcastic, Hermione," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Au contraire, traitor," he remarked. "I can assure you I was quite serious."

Ginny scoffed. "Sure, Malfoy. And I'm the Queen of Sheba, aren't I?"

He drew his wand and waved it menacingly in front of them.

"That can be arranged, Weasel!"

Ginny's eyes widened and she pulled her wand as well, but before she could say anything, Draco yelled, "Silencio!" The spell hit the redhead square in the chest and she gawped for a moment, then turned to run.

"Stupefy!"

Another spell flew at her and knocked her to the ground, unconscious.

Draco turned to stare at Hermione, stunned. She was standing there, chin jutting out proudly, wand pointed at the body of her redheaded friend.

She returned his stare with a set of angry eyes. "Well, _Malfoy_? Say what you must. You've only got a few minutes before she starts coming to."

"And what will you say then? How do you think she'll act when she finds out her best friend stupefied her?"

She smirked. "She won't know. You know Weasleys. They believe anything. I'll tell her you did it."

He stared at her a moment, mouth agape, then let out a loud, clear laugh.

"Well, well. Perhaps you won't be so difficult to manage after all. Seems I've underestimated you once again, _mudblood._"

"You always do, Malfoy. Now get on with it. What is it you have tell me that can't possibly wait?'

He started to shift on his feet, stopped himself, and glared at her. Why did she always have to make these things so difficult to do? It wasn't like you could just interrupt a boy's confession, then turn around and demand he continue. He snorted.

"You were calling me Draco a second ago," he pointed out, almost petulantly.

She sighed and tucked her wand away in a back pocket. "Fine, _Draco_. Is that better?"

"What's the matter, Hermione? You didn't seem to mind my presence yesterday." He sauntered over to her and she had the good sense to move away from him this time. His smirk fell away.

"Don't come any closer, Draco. You know that I wanted to talk to you yesterday and you twisted it, as usual. Now say what you have to say!"

"That's what I want to do now, mudblood. I want to talk." He spread his hands before him.

Her eyes narrowed. There it was again. That tenderness when he said 'mudblood.' Like he thought it was some kind of term of affection.

"Stop calling me that! It isn't cute! Augh!" She threw her hands up in frustration. "You're the last person on earth I ever want to be with, Draco Malfoy! You're cruel and arrogant and totally insufferable. You act like you have the right to call me whatever you want, _do _whatever you want to me, and then expect me to come running? Expect me to automatically return your feelings? What the hell are you thinking? Ron Weasley did a better job of courting my affections than you ever have!"

Draco took a step back. "Well excuse me, mud- _Hermione_. Do you have any idea what I'm offering you? Or the risk I'm taking?"

"That's what I mean!" she exclaimed. "You're like a child- so selfish! All you think about is you, what _you _can give me, what _you _risk. Do you think I haven't considered all that? I'm 'Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her age.' Of course I've thought of all that. That's why I can't accept!"

"What do you mean?" he asked. He was really feeling confused, now. First she attacked him for being selfish, then she all but said she was only thinking about him.

She turned away and looked out across the hills. The bright morning sun drifted across the light snow covering, melting it, leaving patches of dying grass in its wake and the dead leaves left over from early autumn. It moved on and glinted across the hair that lay curling down her back and shoulders. He wanted to reach out and touch it, feel it between his fingers.

So he did.

It was even softer than he remembered and even though it had only been a day since he'd touched it, he missed its feel already. Not that he'd ever tell her that. Not that he'd ever tell _anyone _that. The thought struck him with force and he smiled a little sadly to himself and gave the lock of hair a small tug.

Hermione felt the tug and whipped back around, lifting a hand as if to smack him across the face. She stopped herself just in time. He'd flinched away from her and already dropped her hair, but it wasn't that which made her stop. It was the glimpse of his face she'd seen right before she'd turned about completely. Right before he'd stepped away. The emotion, whatever it was, had covered his whole face like a false mask.

Wanting to decipher what she'd seen, she reached out her already raised hand and touched his face. He widened his grey eyes at her, his mouth working furiously, as if to keep from smiling.

"Draco," she said softly, "this is what I mean. I'm reaching out to you and you won't give me anything in return. You won't even let yourself show genuine emotion around me, yet you claim to care for me!"

He spoke then. "I _do _care for you, you impetuous, brilliant Gryffindor!" He reached a hand up and covered hers. What could he say to convince her of his love for her? What could he give her that would entice her to join him, to change sides, more than the lure of power? Something that would ease her troubles, perhaps? Something that might save her…his mind raced back to his conversation with Moaning Myrtle and he suddenly found himself speaking again.

"If you'd only listen to me you'd understand…join me," he breathed. "Join us, and you don't have to die in the war. You could live!"

She snatched her hand away like his skin was on fire and stared at him, shock filling her body. She asked him for emotion, affection, and this is what he gave her?

"What are you…," rage choked her voice and she stood back, trembling.

Draco mistook it for a glad emotion, for joy tamped down by uncertainty and fear. It would be a huge decision, if she took his choice. He took a few steps forward, eager to be near her, to hold her. He hurried on, not knowing what he was saying anymore.

"I know it's what you worry about- dying, never living to see out the war that's coming for us all. You wouldn't have to worry anymore if you joined me. It's not so bad, really. People don't understand all the good there is to be had with the Dark Lord's work-," he was stopped by her outburst.

"Shut up! SHUT UP! I just offered you my friendship, a chance for consolation and you return it with an offer of sanctuary if I join _Voldemort_?" Her chest heaved with an unfathomable rage. "What was I thinking?" Now she was talking to herself, stalking up and down, hands clenched at her sides. "What an idiot I've been- here I was, falling in love with you! Here I was, thinking maybe you weren't so bad, if you could fall in love with a _mudblood_ like me! here I was, thinking you might be telling the truth-," it was his turn to interrupt her.

Draco's arms shot out and grabbed her shoulders. He gave her several gentle shakes.

"I am telling the truth and I do care about you, you stupid mudblood!" he admonished, his own blood beginning to boil. "What do you think this is? I'm offering you everything I can! If my father knew what I was doing-!"

"Oh, what, he'd kill his precious, only son? Yeah, right! Like I'd ever believe that! You've never been beaten a day in your life by either of your parents- you've been coddled and made to believe that you can have anything you want! Well," she paused for a breath, "_you can't have me_," she hissed out and attempted to turn away and revive Ginny. What she saw made her wrench herself free from his grip.

Unbeknownst to either of them, Ginny had come to a couple of minutes earlier and run off to get the boys, afraid that Malfoy might actually do something to Hermione. After all, he hadn't hesitated to stupefy her, had he? So when Hermione finally turned around to look for her on the ground, she instead found Ginny standing there with Harry and Neville in front of her, both their wands out and at the ready.

Ginny's face bore a look of joyless victory, Neville's bore one of concern, and Harry- Harry's face had that same look she'd seen on Draco's only moments before. What was it? It reminded her of the looks on people's faces when they went boating in the spring time. A sort of tenderness and bitter sweetness. A sense of appreciation for that which one cannot have, for that which does not last. She wondered, briefly, what could have put a look like that upon Harry's face and realized what he had most likely walked in on.

Hermione's trembling returned at the thought of Harry having witnessed what had gone on. She felt a little like she had just betrayed him, and the thought made her heart ache. Not a lot, but just enough to make her give a small gasp. With a shock, all the trembling suddenly ceased and her eyesight blurred. _Tears, _she thought, and reached a hand up to feel her face for dampness. There wasn't any. Her skin felt afire then, and without warning Hermione fell into a dead faint.

All hell broke loose on the tree line between Hogsmeade and the Shrieking Shack.

* * *

**Author's Note: The picture of emotion I'm trying evoke upon Harry and Draco's faces is known to the Japanese as 'aware'; defined by Merriam-Webster's as _an awareness and appreciation of the ephemeral beauty of the world; a poignant sensation one has of time passing and of the inevitable cycle of life and death. _That's the feeling I was going for, but I felt I couldn't reference cherry trees or Japanese culture without it sounding out of place. Thanks for your understanding.**


	23. Chapter 23: Broken Bones, No Hearts Yet

**Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise; all characters and ideas belong to J.K. Rowling.**

* * *

Draco sat in the infirmary, rubbing his left temple. There was a cut on the other side of his face, already bandaged, a poultice on one shoulder and his right leg was in a makeshift splint. He gazed down at it impassively. Really, who would've guessed that Pansy knew muggle first aid? He smirked a little and winced. His hand traveled down to his lips. The bottom one was split and he'd opened the stitches again. He brought his hand away and saw the shiny drops of blood smeared across his fingertips. It made him feel sick again. Madame Pomfrey bustled over to him and tsked tsked.

"How on earth did you end up with stitches, Mr. Malfoy? Completely inappropriate." Then, without further ado, she ripped the remaining threads out and whipped out her wand to apply a healing spell.

Draco wanted to scream, the pain was so great, but he settled for blubbering through his torn and bloodied lip instead. Pomfrey muttered the spell and it healed up in time for him to finish swearing.

"Shit, woman! What the hell- that fucking hurt, you bi-," he was stopped with a hand on his shoulder, applying gentle pressure.

"That's quite enough, Draco," came a cold and steely voice.

Madame Pomfrey harrumphed and bustled away to another bed. "I'll be back to work on your leg after your visitor is gone," she called over her shoulder. Then she disappeared behind a screen and he heard similar howls of pain and protestation. Was that…Potter? As he was able to now, he smirked again and turned to look at his guest, smoothing his face out.

"Hello, Father."

Lucius Malfoy's eyes took in his son's sorry state with one unreadable glance.

"How did this happen, son?"

Draco wanted to shift about to get a better look- the muscles in his back and shoulders were aching with the effort of turning around- but he didn't really want to give his father the pleasure of seeing his only son in pain.

"Fight," he murmured, bringing a hand up to feel his mouth again.

"I can assure you, I am quite aware of the fact that you had a fight, Draco. I was notified by the headmaster that you and some other students were discovered just outside of Hogsmeade, practically bleeding to death. I heard," he continued, twirling his cane about lazily, "that Potter was one of those found with you."

Draco grunted and ran his tongue over his teeth. Was that blood he could taste inside his mouth? He wondered briefly whose it was.

Lucius sent his cane crashing down on Draco's splinted leg and pain shot through him. His eyes swam and he fell back against his pillows, trying to bring the leg up to his chest to cradle it.

"Merlin, Father!'

"I expect you to answer me when I ask you a question, Draco," his father replied calmly.

"You didn't ask me anything!" he bit out through gritted teeth and Lucius raised his cane again. Draco stared him down, angry, and the older man smirked. He lowered the cane back to his side.

"Quite right, son. Quite right. Now, _why _were you fighting with Potter? What could possibly have possessed you to get into a fight with the Boy Who Lived? I know you weren't trying to kill him, because there are…_people_…who would be very displeased if that were the case."

Draco looked away. Of course his father wouldn't buy that he was trying to do away with the rotten kid. Hadn't the Dark Lord made it very clear that he and only he was allowed to kill Potter? But he also couldn't very well tell his father that Potter had attacked _him _over Hermione. He suddenly felt a push at his mind and pushed back, turning about in his bed to face his father fully.

"Get out of my head!" he snarled.

His father smirked at him, his eyes lighting up a bit. "So it was the _other _one, was it? You were trying to hurt the Granger girl…very good, Draco. That isn't a bad piece of news at all."

Draco felt his shoulders relax and leaned against his pillows more, although his mental defenses stayed strong. So his father had seen the image of him holding Hermione by the shoulders, shaking her- scaring her. That wasn't so bad. Although the thought that he believed him to be hurting her was abominable. It made him feel a little ill. Okay, a lot ill. He leaned over and retched in the waste bin next to his bed. Damn. Potter must have truly beaten on him even after he'd gone down. His insides felt like soup. Boiling, roiling soup.

He wiped his mouth unceremoniously and looked back up at his father.

"Thanks," he managed to croak out.

"You're," his father paused, looking him over, a slightly disgusted look in his eyes, "welcome. But come now, we must get you well. I'm sure you'll need your strength for whatever disciplinary action the headmaster chooses to take. Although it looks as if you hadn't really hurt the Granger girl- it was really Potter who attacked you first, yes?"

Draco nodded weakly, the pain from his leg starting to radiate outwards and upwards. It was making his vision blur.

"Well, then. Madam Pomfrey," Lucius called. She peeked around the edge of a partition nervously.

"I'm just leaving, dear woman," he smiled cordially at her, patted Draco's hand, and swept from the room.

Madam Pomfrey bustled back over to Draco's side and frowned when she looked down at his leg. She looked back up at him, almost as if she was going to ask him something, but seeing the way his eyes had rolled back in his head, she decided against it. Instead, she rushed to take off the splint and spoon fed him some potion after performing a simple mending spell. Draco felt himself drift off in a painless sleep and smiled softly.

Pomfrey gazed at him for a moment and then turned away to bustle off to another bedside. There was still an injured Mr. Longbottom to tend to, after all. No time for sentimentality in the medical wing, today. Especially not for the young Mr. Malfoy. The nurse sniffed and set about her ministrations with Neville.

* * *

From the other side of the partition next to Malfoy, Harry sat up in his bed, seething. So Malfoy had been trying to hurt Hermione, was that his game? He thought of the look of anger and hurt on Hermione's face as she listened to Malfoy spout off his lies about caring for her and wanting to save her by having her join Voldemort. Oh, it was too much! If he could've pounded Malfoy all over again right then, he would've. It was positively vile, what the rat had done to Hermione. He remembered her words.

"_Here I was, falling in love with you! Here I was, thinking maybe you weren't so bad, if you could fall in love with a mudblood like me!" _The words lunged straight for his heart and he could feel his blood pressure rising again. No, this wasn't the way to go about getting revenge on the ferret. He needed to rest, really. He needed to figure out how to tell Hermione what he'd overheard, that he knew Malfoy was only trying to use her, to get to her through her feelings so he could hurt her. So he could break her. He swallowed back his fear and anger and laid down, trying to settle into a comfortable position.

When Hermione had fainted earlier, he thought his heart would stop. It nearly had, and all he'd seen for a few seconds was red as his blood raced to his brain. Then he had been on Malfoy in a flash. He could remember Neville yelling as well and Ginny throwing hexes over her shoulder as she checked on Hermione's still form. He hadn't even been thinking, really. It was a wonder he remembered anything from that morning. All he could see in front of him was Malfoy's angry face as he beat the living day lights out of him. No curses, no hexes. Just his fists, pounding into the boy's face and abdomen, over and over again.

Malfoy hadn't fought back at first, only laughed at him, as if he'd beaten Harry to the prize and it didn't matter what happened now. Then he'd begun to struggle, sending his own fists flying up into Harry's jaw.

Harry was pretty sure he'd lost a few teeth that way.

Malfoy had rolled over at some point, sending them both tumbling down a nearby incline. Harry was pretty sure the fall was what had broken Malfoy's leg. It had taken out one of Harry's arms as well, but he'd only switched to flicking his wand at the other boy, tossing him in the air, sending him crashing to the ground.

It had felt good, hearing the sickening thud of breaking bone on rock.

That was the first time he was glad Hermione had fainted, because he knew she would've begged him to stop.

Harry felt his lids begin to droop and just before he closed them completely, he was certain he saw a pair of chocolate eyes peering worriedly into his own bleary ones. _Hermione…don't cry, _he thought, as his mind drifted into a dreamless sleep. _I got the little shit good for you. _Darkness claimed him.

* * *

Hermione stood over Harry's bed, sniffling, wiping her cheeks dry. She couldn't believe the state he was in. What had he been thinking? The stupid boy. She hunched over, more tears spilling from her eyes.

She'd already peered around the partition at Draco. He hadn't looked much better. Hermione had wanted to laugh when she'd realized that. _Good, _she'd thought. _They deserve each other. _She would've been down to visit them sooner, but as soon as they'd all gotten back to Hogwarts, she'd had to go and explain things to Dumbledore. McGonagall had looked somewhat like she'd wanted to take a bite out of her, but the headmaster had put his foot down and demanded that the incident was too large for him _not _to handle it. So the older witch had left her in his care. For two hours.

The nice thing about Dumbledore was that he didn't lecture her or admonish her. In fact, he didn't even seem inclined to punish her. What he did want to know was, how were her courses going lately? Grades? Had she read any good books lately, and was it true that she and young Miss Weasley had made up? How were the rest of her friendships faring? Did she have anything to do with the book titled, _Magical Revenge and Consequences_, missing from its place in the restricted section of the library?

After she'd answered all his questions, they'd had a lovely discussion on the magical properties of cat gut versus petrol and then he'd shooed her on her way. He'd even suggested she go visit 'Master Harry.'

So she had and here she was. Hunched over Harry's bedside. Crying.

_Well, honestly. What have you got to be crying about? _The voice in her head was back. She looked up, gazing at Harry's still face.

_I have loads to cry about, _she responded, her ire raised. _Like what? _she asked herself again. _For one, my best friend is lying in a bed in the infirmary, healing after a fight he had over me with another boy. _

_Wouldn't most girls be happy about that? _the voice responded.

_Not this girl! _she yelled. The voice hid for a moment, scared away by the noise. Then it returned.

_Look, _she told herself. _You got yourself into this mess. Now get yourself out. And stop pretending that you don't care two figs for Malfoy. _

_Draco,_ she absentmindedly corrected herself. The voice disappeared before it had time to respond and was replaced by Ginny's whisper.

"What are you doing here? I thought for sure you'd be in the crapper!"

Hermione felt herself choke as she tried to laugh through her tears. "The crapper?" she managed to ask.

"What?" Ginny replied. "Isn't that what muggles call prison?"

Hermione grinned broadly at the redhead. "No," she said, as seriously as she could. "The loo, maybe. Although it's entirely possible that's an American term…it's hard to keep up with slang in America, you know. Their language is totally out of control."

Now it was Ginny's turn to laugh. "I'm glad you're feeling alright, Hermione. We were worried about you for a while there."

Hermione turned towards her, wiping her face clean. "I'm sorry you got caught in the middle of that…confrontation."

"It's nothing, really. I was half expecting him to hex me, instead. Then again, that never was Malfoy's best subject." She smiled at her friend. "You should've seen Neville's face when I told him and Harry that Malfoy had you cornered and had stupefied me- he was furious! I thought they both might explode, their faces got so red!"

Hermione smiled a bit. "Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah. Just- _so _upset. Conniption angry, even. I don't think I've seen someone that angry since…well, my mum…," her voice trailed off as she looked down at Harry.

"He really took a beating, didn't he?" she asked quietly. Hermione nodded soberly.

"Hey, you should see Draco, though," she joked, nudging Ginny a bit. The other girl looked back at her and grinned.

"Yeah?" she responded.

Hermione nodded seriously. "Oh, _yeah._" She paused for a moment, thoughtful, then nudged Ginny again. "Want a peek?"

The other girl looked at her and laughed. "Why not? Might give us some ideas for Ron," she added, waggling her eyebrows a bit.

"Fred and George, Gin. Fred and George!"

"What? They're my brothers- I can't help acting like them now and then!"

The two girls bickered softly as they moved away from Harry's bedside to sneak a look at Draco. Neville spotted them from across the way and called out. Madam Pomfrey turned about to see who he was talking to and immediately bustled over to them.

"Girls, it's too early for you to be here. I want you to leave and let these boys get some rest."

Ginny and Hermione pleaded with her for a moment, but she shook her head.

"Not now! Now go on, have some dinner and get back to your dorms. I understand the heads of the houses want to have another chat with their students about this unfortunate incident. Come on, now. Off you go!" She shooed them out the door and they only managed to flash Neville apologetic smiles over their shoulders before the door to the medical suite was closed after them.

"Well, that's that, I guess," Ginny remarked, looking rather forlornly at the closed doors. Then she turned to Hermione. "Dinner?"

Hermione laughed again and they started for the great hall. There would be time for visiting later. Dinner, on the other hand, would come and go whether they ate or not. They decided to eat.

* * *

Later that evening, they were gathered in the common room, chatting quietly. It was a couple of hours after dinner and the talk from their house head and they were just trying to rest now. Neville had gotten back just in time for the talk, but he'd missed dinner in the great hall, a fact which Ginny and Hermione told him he should be thankful for. All anyone had talked about at dinner was the fight and who had seen what, who'd thrown the first punch, even how many times Ginny had screamed; although the only people who had seen the fight were Neville and Ginny and _Ginny_ insisted she had certainly _not _screamed.

"I mean, honestly! I think I'd know it if I had screamed. Right, Neville?" she asked, nudging him in the ribs.

Neville winced and nodded stiffly. "Sure, Gin, sure. _Please _don't poke me there anymore," he muttered.

Even though he hadn't been the one pounding his fists into Malfoy, he had done a little wand work to help Harry out. Well, and try to get Harry off of Malfoy. And intercept rogue curses Malfoy was desperately firing from his wand. It was one such curse aimed at Ginny that had sent him flying against through the air, finally landing in a tree. The tree had promptly dropped him, effectively breaking three of his ribs. Luckily for Neville, ribs healed much more quickly than major limbs, so he was allowed to leave the infirmary sooner than either Harry or Malfoy.

Ginny looked over at him and her face fell. "Oh, I'm sorry, Neville. Are you feeling alright?"

"Better," he murmured, shifting in his seat. "Still a bit sore."

Hermione smiled at them both before looking around the common room. Not many students remained. Most of them had left to go and gossip amongst themselves in their dorm rooms. Hermione could hear the sounds of music and laughter coming from upstairs. She shook her head and stood up. Ginny and Neville looked up at her.

"Where are you going?" Ginny asked.

"It's still early, yet. I thought I might go to the library for a bit. Do a bit of studying. It's been a hectic last two weeks and, well, studying calms me. It'll be nice to sit in the peace and quiet after the excitement of today."

"But-," Neville began. Hermione interrupted him with a smile.

"But what, Neville? Draco's in the medical wing. I think one of his legs is even in traction. That boy isn't going anywhere, so stop worrying. _I'll be fine,_" she grinned, and walked across the room to the door.

Harry picked that moment to push open the portrait and step inside. He was moving a little stiffly, and his head was down, like he was watching carefully where he put his feet. His left arm was in a sling and there was a series of small scratches along the right side of his face. Still, for the most part he seemed alright. He was up, and that was enough for him. He couldn't say the same about Malfoy.

Hermione stopped dead for a moment and stared at him, unsure of what to do. He wasn't looking up, just shuffling in and closing the portrait behind him. And oh, he looked so strong and yet so weak at the same time. Just a boy. He was just a boy and she was just a girl and she didn't want to have to deal with _any _of it all of the sudden. So what if she had feelings for Draco? Why did everyone automatically assume that once two people, even two _children_, were in love that it was alright for them to have sex? To want to have sex?

_It's not okay! There are too many other things happening that are more important! There are too many things…_with a wrenching, panicky, guilty sob she started for the door and brushed past him and out into the halls. Harry lifted his head and stared after her blankly for a moment. Then he looked at Neville and Ginny.

"Harry!" Neville cried out. "How are you feeling?"

"Where is she going?" he asked, ignoring Neville's question.

Ginny and Neville glanced at one another.

"Ah, Harry, I think Hermione just want's to be alone right-," she began, but he didn't let her finish.

"I have to talk to her. There's something important I have to tell her," he responded. "Where is she going?" he asked again, more slowly, working his jaw carefully around the words. Malfoy had landed a punch or two, himself, and it hurt to talk too much.

"The library," Neville managed, casting a look down at Ginny that clearly said, 'Don't argue.'

Harry didn't say anything else and turned around to shuffle back out the open door after her.

Ginny looked back up to Neville. He continued to stare down at her sternly.

"You know, Neville," she said after a few moments, "I didn't realize before how blue your eyes are."

Neville flushed a healthy shade of pink and mumbled something in reply before turning to look after Harry's retreating form.

"Do you think he's alright?" he asked.

Ginny scoffed. "He's _Harry_, Neville. Of course he's alright. Well, at least until he runs into Hermione, he is."

Neville looked back at her, startled. She was getting up.

"What do you mean?"

She snorted a bit. "Go to bed, Neville."

"But Ginny-!" he called after her retreating form.

"Good night!" she sang in return, flouncing up the stairs to the girls' dormitory.

Neville slumped back down into his seat with a sigh, thoroughly confused. He'd never understand girls. _Never,_ he thought. He hoped fervently that Harry was having more luck.

* * *

**Author's Note: Here, by special request, is my disclaimer about this story. **

_**Hermione will not end up with a guy who treats her like crap. I promise. She will not change who she is to be with someone and she will not put up with mistreatment. I feel that her character, as I have written it, will not be compromised in any way.**_


	24. Chapter 24: After Christmas, Please

**Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise; all characters and ideas belong to J.K. Rowling.**

* * *

Harry pushed open the door to the library slowly, just like he'd done everything else since he'd gotten out of the infirmary forty minutes earlier. He felt stiff and a bit sore in more than one place, and Hermione had quickly moved out his sight. She'd gained yards on him at the rate she was moving compared to his slow shuffle. It was a little frustrating, but he remembered Aesop. He was sure Hermione did too. He was also sure she'd seen him following her, as she'd looked over her shoulder exactly once on her mad dash to the library.

He didn't really mind the extra time on his walk, though. It gave him a chance to figure out what he wanted to say; how he was going to approach her. He walked steadily along the central corridor of the library, smiling a bit at Madame Pince as he moved past. She cast an irritable eye at the clock that was ticking away silently on the wall behind him to remind him that the library was closing in another half hour.

He rolled his eyes as he moved away. Everyone knew there were nooks and crannies all over the library in which one could steal a few extra minutes- hours, even- after it closed. Not that people used them on a regular basis, but they did come in handy during exams when one needed to stay up all night finishing last minute scrolls and parchments.

Ah. There she was. She was perched over some books at one of the high tables, feet tucked under the stool she was sitting on. Curly brown hair running wildly across her head and down her back; flickering lamplight casting appealing shadows over her face. How he wished things were different. How he wished in that moment that he didn't need her so and could just let the whole thing drop…but it was no good! She'd always be part of his life in some capacity, he knew that.

_Still_, he thought. _Why do I always have to be the one to give her bad news? Why is she always doing the same for me? Why can't we ever just be two teenagers? _For possibly the first time in his life, he came close to wishing he had never heard of Hogwarts. He could've managed the Dursleys, he was sure of it. After all, any heartbreak they dished out was more appetizing than the sense of betrayal he'd felt from Hermione that morning. He thought being beaten compared more favorably to…well, whatever.

Harry held back the sigh that was working its way into his throat and stood watching her for a moment instead. Then he shuffled forward to climb awkwardly onto the seat next to her. She looked over at him and jumped up, startled.

"Harry! What are you doing here? You should be in bed, resting! I insist! Do you need me to help you back to the dorm? Is your arm okay? Oh, here, let me-," she started to put his good, right arm over her shoulders and he withdrew it, protesting.

"No, Hermione. I'm alright, really. Just a bit stiff, I promise." He worked his jaw a little to relax it. Hermione sat back down, slowly.

"Are you su-," she began, but he cut her off.

"Yes." He answered firmly, tucking his good hand under his sling. He didn't want to risk trying to reach out and touch her. She was probably in a fragile state still, he reasoned. So instead he leaned over the table some, looking at her papers.

"What are you working on?" he asked.

"Er…Potions homework," she replied steadily, as if she were trying to keep her voice from shaking.

Harry nodded and sat back in the chair. _Do it now,_ he told himself. _You might never have another chance. Hermione's more than right to be thinking about her mortality. You should know that better than anyone…_he shushed the voice in his head and leant forward again.

"Hermione," he began. She nodded for him to go on, but kept her eyes glued to her book. "I need to talk to you about what happened today." She nodded again, silent. "And about Malfoy." This time her lower lip trembled, but she kept her eyes on the page open before her. "I heard some of what was said between you this morning and that's what I need to talk to you about." Again, a nod. He didn't have the heart to point out she'd been staring at the page for more than a minute already, but he did wish she'd look at him. Then, just like that, she did.

Her brown eyes were full of tears and a few rolled down her cheeks as she stared at him, unblinking, eyes pleading.

"Oh, Harry, I've been such an idiot!" Then her face was buried in her arms on the table in front of her, great, quiet, heaving sobs wracking her small shoulders.

Harry really didn't know what to say to that. After two weeks of being the wise and wonderfully mature friend, he had no clue what to do when she started blubbering on her Potions book. Especially not after an outburst like that one. What was he supposed to do in that case, tell her he agreed with her? _Actually, that makes as much sense as any of this does._

He put his good hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Yeah," he murmured, "you have."

Her head whipped up, knocking his hand off of her and she stared at him, her tear stained face bearing a look of horror. _Oh, _he thought. _That was obviously the wrong thing to say._

"Look, Hermione, you know what I mean. What do you want me to say to something like that? I can't very well disagree with you," he said, putting his hand back on her shoulder. "It was _Malfoy_, after all."

"And this isn't the Yule Ball or the Triwizard Poobah Cup, Harry!" she hissed in return, wiping her face off angrily.

"No, it isn't. It's much worse, in fact," he replied, almost stolidly.

She stared at him a moment more, then shrugged his hand off her shoulder again and turned back to her book.

"Say what you have to say," she muttered. The words brought back memories of her conversation that morning and she moaned, burying her head in her arms again.

"Hermione, I can't talk to your hair," Harry replied softly. She turned her head away from him. "Or the back of your head," he tried again.

She snorted.

"Look," he began, "I heard you tell Malfoy you were…were…," _gods, _it was hard to actually say out loud, "…falling in love with him." He ran the last few words together in a rush, as if they wouldn't come out properly.

Hermione snorted again, this time as if to say, 'You wanna make sumthin' outta it?'

Harry didn't even notice himself reply to her wordless comment.

"Yeah, I do want to make something out of it! Look, I don't really care who laid what claim where- in fact, that's not something that even matters, here. What I do care about is you and whether you get hurt or not and damn it, Hermione, if you stay with Malfoy you'll get hurt!"

Hermione suddenly hurled herself at him and clapped a hand across his mouth. He struggled for a moment, pain shooting up and down his bad arm, the arm she'd so unceremoniously grabbed.

"Stop being a baby and shut up!" she hissed.

Then he heard it too. The clicking of Madame Pince's heels on the worn stone floor of the library. Like a shot, Hermione grabbed all her books and dragged Harry, still by his bad arm, down a side aisle and towards a far corner. She pulled him over to a window seat and shoved him onto the cushion, scurrying up after him and pulling the drapes shut.

They were sealed in semi darkness, as a thin strip of light was peaking through the slit between the curtains and faint lamp light was shining in the window from outside. Hermione finally let go of his arm and he held it to him, massaging it gently.

_That hurt_, he mouthed.

_I know, _she replied. Then, a moment later, he heard a soft, "I'm sorry. Are you in a lot of pain?"

"Not much," he whispered back.

"We have to stay here like this for at least fifteen minutes while Pince does her closing round of the library." She paused. "Then Filch will be in once every hour to check."

Harry nodded in the dim lighting and they both sat there in relative silence for a minute as they heard the older witch's footsteps recede. Harry started to move, but Hermione laid a hand on his knee and stopped him.

"She comes back around again. Stay put," she murmured, then removed her hand and wrapped her other arm around her knees, which she was hugging to her chest. She turned her head and looked out the window. Harry followed her motion and gazed out as well.

Snow was falling again, in a light dusting along the eaves and window ledges. It sparkled in the lamplight as it fell softly to the ground below, looking more like glitter or pixie dust. Harry smiled, bemused. He glanced at Hermione again. The light shone through the window, glancing off her cheeks and across her forehead and lips. It made her look…ethereal, almost. His eyes softened a bit. Everything seemed so unreal in that moment. Like nothing and yet everything had happened. Like he'd wake up in the morning and it would be Saturday again, with the day's events a dream from the night before.

He sighed softly. He really _couldn't_ stay angry at her. She may have fallen in love with Malfoy, but it wasn't her fault, was it? He shook his head a bit. _What are you saying? That she's not responsible for control over her own feelings? _He shushed himself yet again. _You can't help who you fall in love with, _he told himself firmly. _Especially when the person you're falling for is one very devious future Death Eater! _He clenched his good arm about his knees and cursed Malfoy under his breath. He suddenly couldn't hold in his questions any longer.

"Why?" he hissed.

She looked over at him and shook her head. _Not now, _she mouthed.

He scooted closer. "Tell me why, Hermione. I've a right to know." he whispered again.

She remained impassive, staring out the window at the cold world beyond. The snow was gradually building and had begun to swirl its way through the air and around the pointed spires of Hogwarts' towers.

"I don't know what you mean," she finally replied, after nearly a minute had passed.

Harry gritted his teeth and winced. Fucking Malfoy. How many punches had the git landed on his jaw? He stared hard at Hermione and finally looked away as she turned her head towards him.

"You know very well what I mean," he answered. "Why him? Why Malfoy? You know what kind of a person he is! As if he'd ever really-," she interrupted him with a furious whisper.

"As if he'd ever really _what_, Harry? Love a mudblood like me? Is that what you were about to say?"

"No, of course not-," he tried to explain, but she cut him off again.

"As if I'm not nearly attractive enough to make a self proclaimed muggle hater love me? As if I'm not good enough for him, is that what you mean, _Harry_?"

"Hermione! Those aren't my words and you know it!" he finally interjected, injured that she could ever think he'd say such a thing.

She leant back against the wall and turned her gaze to the world outside once more, angry tears rolling down her cheeks.

"You know that's how Malfoy really feels, Hermione, I-," he debated with himself, whether to tell her what he had heard after all. She was already hurt enough as it was, why should he make it worse? But no, she deserved to know the truth. His feelings for justice got the better of him and he started to speak again, voice low.

"I overheard Malfoy talking to his father this afternoon in the infirmary. He was the next bed over from me." Hermione was silent and Harry plunged forward. "Malfoy told his father he was just trying to hurt you. To make you fall in love with him so he could-," he paused as he saw the tears falling faster down her cheeks. Her shoulders began to shake. "I'm sorry, Hermione. But it's true. He was only trying to hurt you, to break up the 'golden trio' even further." She buried her head in her arms and curled up further into herself.

He watched her cry for a moment. He knew she'd want her space right then, not that she'd want his comfort anyway. After several minutes, her head shot back up.

"You're lying, aren't you?"

"What?" Harry was completely taken aback. "No, Hermione. No- I'm not lying!"

"You must be! You're jealous of him- you don't want to see me happy…you must not have heard him right; after all, you were in a lot of pain earlier…probably sedated…how could you possibly have heard that!" she cried, her stare accusing. Harry could see in her eyes, though, that she didn't even believe what she was saying.

He reached out his hand and put it on her arm, giving it a small squeeze.

"Come on, Hermione. You don't believe that. I swear to you, I'm telling the truth." She let out a shaky sob and brought her hands up to her face, covering it.

"Oh, Harry," she murmured. "What have I done?"

"Nothing, I hope," he replied. She stared at him from behind her fingers and he sat tensely, waiting for a reaction. She finally let out a funny little yelp of laughter and he relaxed, then reached up and drew one of her hands into his.

"You were really starting to care for him?"

She nodded at him, her other hand over her mouth, eyes big and bright from crying, ready to spill more tears. They were so close, he could even see the way her eyelashes were clinging together with dampness, remnants of tears perched on their tips. His brow furrowed.

"For Malfoy?" Another nod.

"You were starting to care for _Draco _Malfoy."

This time she took her other hand away from her mouth and smacked him on his shoulder…his _bad_ shoulder.

"Ow!" he groaned, laughing a bit. He noticed she was smiling as well- not by much, but it was enough. "Why wasn't it me?" he asked suddenly, and her face fell again.

"I- I thought I might care for you too, at first, Harry. You were so nice after, well, _everything. _And I really liked spending time with you at the carnival. But he kept at it so much…and he held me so _tenderly-_," she bit her lip, thinking. "So, you see, it was Draco too. He really seemed to want to _be _with me- I don't understand how someone could fake that!"

Her eyes began to fill again and he felt panicked. He didn't want her to keep crying- but oh, gods. She had admitted she did have feelings for himself after all. What did any of it mean? He remembered the fervor with which she'd turned down Malfoy's offer that morning. "_You can't have me_," she'd said. Perhaps she'd meant it.

"Well, just don't tell me the details. Save it for Ginny, please," he joked, but his eyes were serious, and Hermione could see that. She wiped some of the tears from her face and looked down at his hand, still entwined with hers.

After what felt like an eternity, she started to speak.

"I was starting to care, Harry. But I want you to understand that I wasn't- I didn't plan on going out with him or anything like that. I've been trying to push him away for the last two weeks, but he just…keeps coming back. Like some god awful boomerang."

Harry laughed a little and Hermione smiled at him tentatively. "I really didn't know what to do about my feelings for him. I wasn't even sure if I _had _feelings for him, or if it was just unsatisfied hormones. Merlin knows we've all gotten a little crazy in the last two years." She frowned a bit.

"Which I don't understand, by the way! I mean, why do we have to answer the call of nature and all that crap all the time? Why can't boys just keep their hands to themselves? I mean, just because I like someone doesn't mean I want them to shag me right away!" Harry blushed furiously and was suddenly glad for the dim lighting. Hermione sighed and spoke again. "I just didn't know what was going on, Harry. Although everyone else could tell how I felt, apparently."

"I couldn't tell," Harry said softly. She looked to him and squeezed his hand.

"I know. I should've told you what was going on. But I didn't want you doing exactly what you did this morning! Running off and getting in another fight- you could get expelled for this, Harry!"

"Don't worry about me," he replied, rather gruff. The truth was, she wasn't saying anything he didn't already know. He'd already had Dumbledore come and talk to him when he was in the medical wing earlier, and the headmaster had quite a few things to say to him then. He'd tried to justify what he'd done to Malfoy, but it hadn't flown. It was his second fight in one semester and now both he and Malfoy were going to have to appear before a board of teachers. Dumbledore had promised to keep the governors out of it, but had said that Harry would have to make a formal apology to both Malfoy and his family.

In the words of Dumbledore, "Defending a young witch's honor is one thing- interfering in her very personal and private decisions is something completely different, especially when you've beaten her companion to within an inch of his life!" When Harry had pointed out that he himself hadn't exactly come away unscathed, Dumbledore had only shaken his head sadly at him.

"Harry, I want you to remember that no matter what personal battles you may have here at school, you have another, more important battle to fight later on. It is one in which you will need all your strength, and it is one which will be fought for more than personal reasons." Then he had offered him a chocolate frog, which Harry had politely refused. The sight of it had made him rather ill, actually.

He looked up suddenly, aware that Hermione had been talking to him.

"Harry- I said that I'm sorry. Are you even listening? Harry?" she leaned forward on her knees, waving a hand in front of his face. He just looked at her blankly for a moment- she was so close, her breath blowing across his cheek softly…she noticed him looking at her strangely and began to pull back; but even as weakened as he was, he was still stronger than her.

He moved his good hand to the back of her head and brought her forward, closer, her lips meeting his in a tangle of limbs and hair and tongues. She didn't respond at first, she was so shocked, but he held on to her and she finally started to kiss him back. One arm snaked around the back of his neck, the other reaching a hand up into his hair. After several awkward minutes of heavy breathing and crushed torsos, Harry pulled away and Hermione flopped down against him. He looked down at her face which was lit up by the light from the window and he saw she was gaping at him with her mouth open.

"What?" he asked, swiftly becoming aware of how uncomfortable the position was. Hermione was slung across his body, her own small body crushed between his raised thighs and his chest, her breasts pressing rather unfortunately against his bad arm. Only unfortunate, of course, because they were putting pressure on his still healing limb and it was growing increasingly painful. His good arm was wrapped firmly around her shoulders, doing its best to support her weight.

Not that Hermione wasn't a _tad_ bit uncomfortable as well. Her skirt had hiked itself up over her knees, which were pressed firmly against the glass of the window and she was convinced her skin was going to freeze off. _The temperature must be dropping pretty swiftly, _she thought in the back of her mind. The front of her mind was screaming, _Kiss him again! Again, you foolish girl! _So she did, putting her already open mouth on top of his, using what little leverage she had around his neck to haul herself up to him.

He responded eagerly in spite of his pain, telling the half of him that was yelling for morphine to shut the hell up, if it would kindly; and give it a rest because _he, Harry Potter_, was getting kissed by the most beautiful girl in the world; and he didn't much care whether he broke his arm all over again, thank you very much. Just then, it would have been worth it. Harry found himself groaning into her mouth a little despite his best efforts and Hermione pulled away this time.

Hermione dropped against him once more and he discovered they were both panting slightly as he grinned down at her.

"What…was that about…the call of nature, again?" he gasped out, and she frowned.

"Need I remind you that you started it, as usual?" she asked archly, digging her hands into his hair further. "Also, do you want me to keep kissing you or not?"

"N-not-!" he gasped. She frowned and tried to disentangle herself, only to discover that she couldn't get very good leverage from her current position. Harry winced as she struggled to sit up.

"Stop! You'll put the window out," he moaned as her chest came in contact with his arm once more.

She frowned more and this time shoved away from him, sending herself tumbling out of his arms and to the floor below the window seat.

"Oh, _Merlin,_" she whispered furiously as she did battle with the drapes. Harry winced and rubbed his arm, then hopped down from the seat himself.

"I think it's been more than fifteen minutes," he pointed out. Hermione scowled at him.

"Yes, time flies when you're miserable," she muttered darkly, standing up.

"Hermione, I didn't mean-," he began, but she ignored him and turned away to grab her books.

"Will you listen to me for once?" he asked, and grabbed the arm that was reaching for her book sack. She tried to twist away, but he pressed his body to hers, pinning her against the wall. She brought her eyes up to his and her eyelashes fluttered, blinking back tears.

"Hermione, I only needed you to move because my arm-," but she interrupted him again.

"Oh, no! Why didn't you say so? Did I hurt you very badly? Can I do anything?"

She would've kept talking; Harry was certain of that, but he kissed her again. They melted against one another and Hermione gave a muffled little sob against him as his lips moved down from her mouth to her jaw, her neck. He opened his eyes and leaned away, putting his hand on the side of her face to wipe away the new dampness upon her cheeks.

"Hermione," he breathed. "What's wrong? Am I hurting you?"

She shook her head, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. He felt an unreasonable anger begin to heat his cheeks.

"Is it Malfoy? Did he- did he hurt you?" Harry prayed to god he hadn't, although the thought of Malfoy touching her with the same tenderness in his fingers that Harry used now to brush away her tears made his heart leap to his throat. _You were right,_ he told himself. Or maybe it was that _she_ was right. _You shouldn't push things with her_, the voice continued._ She's not ready for this. She's so focused on simply _surviving _right now that she can't think about anything else. You are hurting her, in a way. _

He leaned forward again and rested his forehead on her shoulder, his breath flowing hot against the side of her neck.

"I'll…I can't make up for what Malfoy did, Hermione," he murmured.

"I don't want you to," she whispered.

"But I won't be second to him, either." Harry pushed away from the wall and moved back. Hermione opened her eyes to look at him.

"I don't want that-," she choked out.

"Then tell me what it is!" he cried, balling his hand into a fist, staring down at it angrily. "I can't help you if you won't talk to me."

"I don't want your help, Harry!" she responded; her eyes sparking with a familiar anger. "_Augh_! Why does it have to be one or the other? Why does it have to be I either need your help or I don't? I'm either happy or sad? Angry or content? Equal or lesser? Why can't you accept that I've made my choice and now I'd like to get on with my life? Why must you know every little detail of what I've felt over the last two weeks, to the very moment that I told Draco Malfoy to get a fucking life? Must it be so obvious which choice I've made and why? Why are my reasons more important than the decision I made? Why can't I just…be _me_?" she finished, sobbing quietly into her hands.

Harry didn't know what to say to that. He hadn't anticipated her responses to, well, any of it. First the admission, then the accusations, then the confirmation…he felt more confused than ever and the _only _thing he was sure of was that he had held her in his arm(s) and kissed her not less than a minute ago and now she was completely mental. And he hadn't even meant to kiss her! Sure, he still cared for her, but she had said she was in love Malfoy- he should hate her, by all rights, but he didn't. He couldn't. He took a step forward.

"Hermione." No response, just more sniffling.

"Hermione, I'm sorry." Silence. "_Hermione_-."

She looked up at him. "Stop apologizing, Harry, and go back to the dormitory."

He frowned. She frowned back.

"Go on! If anyone should be apologizing, it's me. I'm the bad guy, after all. I allowed multiple rumors to go one for weeks longer than they should have, I promoted illegal activity among students and I betrayed your friendship. What more do you need me to say to convince you to go?"

Harry gaped at her and then shook his head. "No, no! I won't let you do this to yourself."

"Do what?" she asked calmly, gathering her things.

"Blame yourself," he replied staunchly, blocking her way.

She sighed. "Harry, get out of my way."

"Look at me." She glanced away.

"Filch will be coming around soon," she murmured, peering around his shoulder.

"Look at me, Hermione!"

She finally looked up at him, her eyes angry and brimming over all the more. "Why, Harry? So you can see me cry again? So you hate me, so you don't understand me; who cares? We're all going to fucking die after we graduate- if we graduate, so what does it matter if I look at you now and you convince me not to hate myself _or _you for putting me through this?" She laughed bitterly. "Besides, if we live, none of this will matter anyway because, well, you know me! I always do the _right_ thing, the moral thing, no matter how much it fucking hurts!

"I'll still be by your side, the fucking girl wonder of witchdom, to help you out through all your trials, no questions asked. I'll even be there when you defeat Voldemort, I promise! And when Cho or some other two-bits bimbo comes along to steal your heart and make lots of miniature Potters for you, I'll be there too. I'll become such good friends with her that she'll have me as a bridesmaid; and I'll get to see the whole ceremony up close and personal; and when you kiss her _I won't think of you at all_," she hissed, and stepped back, although it was obvious from her face that she'd think of him the whole time, possibly forever. "Now let me pass!"

Harry stood there dumbly, stunned at her words. He suddenly couldn't stand it anymore.

"Do you love me, Hermione?"

She stared back at him and met his eyes with a fiery determination. It was the same determination he'd seen on her face at the Yule Ball two years ago- the look that had presented itself when Ron was at his worse and she'd thought they had all abandoned her. It was all the answer he needed, and he clasped her too him in his pitiful, one armed hug.

She didn't say anything, but let him hold her in silence for several minutes. Her breathing eventually calmed and he felt her heart rate slow. He kept his chin carefully on top of her head, his arm pressing her close to him.

"You should hate me," she whispered.

"I did, for a moment," he replied.

She turned her face into his chest and smiled against him. "Good."

"Look," he said softly, "I'd rather…that is, even if you're still…_getting over_ Malfoy, I'd rather have you by my side as my friend, as my _girl_, than as my 'friend that I never even tried with despite the fact that she was a fantastic kisser.'" He looked down at her. "What do you say, Hermione?"

He heard her give sad little sigh and he planted a small kiss on the top of her head.

"Will you ask me again after Christmas, Harry?" came her muffled response. He smiled into her hair and nodded.

* * *

A few minutes later, a bright light shone on them and they heard Filch's voice.

"Ah-ha! Caught two lovebirds, have we, Mrs. Norris? Let's see who we have-," he never finished his sentence.

"_Obliviate_," came a cry, and the caretaker hit the ground like a rock, with another charm following quickly for Mrs. Norris, who mewled and was caught in the tail.

"Do those charms work on cats?" Harry asked, as they stepped over the two still bodies and made their way stealthily from the library.

"Harry," Hermione said quite seriously, tucking her wand away, "they don't call me the brightest witch of my age for nothing."

* * *

**AU: I'm sorry this was so drama filled! I didn't mean for it to be, originally…but things just wouldn't resolve themselves in a simple manner!**

**To _mofo: _Yes, she does seem to be leaning that way, doesn't she? We'll find out for certain in a few more chapters, though.**


	25. Chapter 25: Accio Brain!

**Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise; all characters and ideas belong to J.K. Rowling.**

* * *

For the next week and a half, things slowly returned to normal. At least, relatively normal. Hermione went to classes and brought her scores back up easily and quickly. She managed to put off rumors about herself and Harry despite his holding her hand at every available moment. And she didn't speak to Draco Malfoy once. She had decided, rather prudently, that to talk to him at this stage would only further humiliate herself and encourage him. Well, it wasn't going to happen, not while she had her full capacities. 

In truth, even after her talk with Harry, she had wanted to run to the infirmary and confront Draco as soon as she was able. She wanted to yell and scream and generally throw as unladylike a fit as possible, but she knew that would be unwise. It was more than likely Crabbe, Goyle, and assorted other undesirables would be guarding him nonstop. Non of whom she particularly wanted to see, especially now that the story of the fight and what it was over had penetrated every corner of the school. No, it would be much better to endure the stares and jibes from Slytherins and wait for an appropriate moment to strike.

Because strike she would, and fully intended to- when the little shit least expected it. Instead of the unruly behavior which reigned over her actions at the moment, she would wait until she was calm and collected and then she would speak to him. She would stand up to him and tell him she had expected more of him, but that, really, what could one expect from a boy whose father was a Death Eater? How could she expect him to understand love and compassion when he was hell bent on genocide? She knew, logically, that he would just laugh at her, but she wanted to _hurt_ him, the bastard. She wanted him to feel as heart broken as she did- at least, the half that wasn't clinging to Harry was broken.

But all those plans were in the future. For now, she had better things to focus on, like making Harry understand that when she said, _ask me after Christmas_, she _meant _after Christmas. Still, he was endearing in an exasperating sort of way.

In addition to Hermione's mental recovery, Harry made a full physical recovery in just a day after their encounter in the library. In spite of Hermione's protests, he immediately went back to carrying her books. He'd already made his apology to the Malfoys, although he hadn't appeared before his hearing of teachers yet. At any rate, signs were good that he wouldn't be expelled. It may have been one of the stupider things that Dumbledore had been forced to intercede for Harry over, but the headmaster did it anyway, as he always had.

Most of all, though, the thing which had truly helped things return to normal, was when a general panic in Gryffindor house forced attention away from herself and her situation. Hermione and Ginny had finally executed her revenge and it had gone down smashingly well. It had started with their combined attack on Ron. Hermione had told Ginny not to worry, that she could lure him out and retrieve his wand, and she was as good as her word. She set her plan into action as soon as she was able.

* * *

"Harry," Hermione murmured to him as they sat in a far corner of the common room, "have you seen Ron lately?" 

He looked up from the report he'd been working on and stared at her hard for a moment. "Not lately. I mean, I've seen him, but we haven't talked. Why?"

"Oh, well," she paused, biting her lower lip nervously and twirling a lock of hair about her finger- two things she knew distracted Harry to no end. "I was just thinking that maybe it was time I forgave him."

Harry was suspicious at first, but Hermione chewed on her lip a little more and he found himself just nodding at her. After all, it wasn't so far fetched…she had forgiven Ginny, sort of, hadn't she? It made sense she would want…to do the same for…Ron…would she _ever _stop gnawing on that lip? It was driving him mad! He tried to reach for her, but she scooted to the other side of the loveseat primly, rearranging her skirts.

"So…," Harry eyed her uncertainly, "what do you want me to do about it?"

"Well," Hermione responded, fluffing her hair a bit and then twirling a strand about her forefinger, "could you ask him to meet me this week? Wednesday before dinner? I really want to talk to him, hear what he has to say."

"Where?" Harry's eyes were distracted now, following the motion of Hermione's finger like a cat watching its prey.

"Second floor girl's restroom. Thanks, Harry! I really appreciate it," she smiled at him, then leaned over and pecked his cheek before getting up and skipping away.

Harry's eyes narrowed again. Hermione didn't _skip_. Oh, well. It was too late to confront her now. Besides, if she was planning anything for Ron, he probably deserved it. He smiled to himself and bent over his parchment once more. He'd track Ron down before bed and give him the good news. Ron didn't need to know about the devious look in Hermione's eye- that was supposed to be a surprise, Harry was certain.

* * *

And a surprise it was. Ron was waiting outside the designated location that Wednesday afternoon, as planned. He'd gotten there early and kept his wand in one hand, at the ready. He wasn't exactly a favorite around school at the moment and he needed every ounce of protection he could get. He was spinning the wand about idly when he heard footsteps approaching and spun around to meet the enemy. 

Hermione ducked as a hex flew over her head and she responded with a swift, "_Accio _Ron's wand!"

Ron stared at her, astonished, as he recognized her. He began blubbering in the middle of the hallway, something Hermione did _not _want. She grabbed him by his sleeve and dragged him after her into the loo. Ginny was waiting for her.

"Did you talk to Myrtle already?" she asked quickly. Ginny nodded and then she released Ron as both girls turned to stare at him appraisingly. He was still blubbering and did nothing but gurble incoherently for the first two minutes.

"Hermione, I was so happy when Harry told me you wanted to meet with me…I really wanted to talk to you for a while now and it hurt my feelings when you would never give me the chance," he paused for air, "but I just know you'll understand and forgive me now if you'll just listen- I only worry now, you know, because I don't want to hurt Harry's feelings and, well, it would be awkward, of course, to talk about anything more than being friends right now without talking to him first..," he would have kept prattling on, but he finally stopped to breath again.

Hermione stared at him in disbelief. Then she turned to look at Ginny, who was also staring with disbelief. The redhead looked back at her, then nudged her. Right, may as well stick to the plan, although after that outburst she rather wished she could just bash his skull in.

"Ron," she said carefully, "I sought you out so you could apologize and make it up to me, not so you could get down my pants."

He stared at her blankly for a minute and then shook his head, confused. "But Hermione," he began, "you wear a skirt!" He pointed this information out with the eagerness of a retriever, showing the duck carcass triumphantly to his master.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" Ginny huffed, and cast a binding charm on him with a flick of her wrist. Ron looked startled and watched warily as his sister marched up to him and shook her fist in his face threateningly.

"Ronald Weasley," she menaced, "you've got a lot of nerve! Hermione wouldn't get back with you if you were the last man on earth! Now apologize or I'll-," she was interrupted by his whining.

"Ginny," he sniffed, "this is between me and Hermione. Let me go!"

Hermione sighed, aggrieved. "Oh, let's not bother with the apologies and just hex the idiot."

Ginny turned around. "Really? Can we?"

"Now wait a minute!" Ron cried. "Don't I have a say?"

Both girls spun to face him. "No!" they yelled simultaneously.

"But really, the point was to get him to do it willingly…," Hermione began to reason.

Ginny sighed and nodded her head. "Yeah, you're right. Just…let me deal with the wanker for a moment, right?"

Hermione shrugged indifferently and Ginny looked at Ron. He squirmed a bit.

"Ron," Ginny said sweetly, "how would you like it if Mum got a full report on how nasty you've been to me and Hermione the last few months?" She flicked her wand again and a piece of parchment and enchanted quill whisked to her side. The quill began to scribble on the paper and Ginny started to dictate to it.

"Dear Mum," she pouted, "I have some very important news for you concerning my darling elder brother, Ronald. You see, at the beginning of the year, he-," she was stopped in mid-sentence by a cry of distress.

"No! Merlin, Gin! I'll do anything- just don't write to Mum, please!"

"So you agree to an apology? And helping us out?" She smiled even more sweetly and Ron felt his stomach turn.

"Yes, yes! _Anything_," he moaned. Ginny released him and fell to his knees and clasped his hands.

"Hermione," he said, turning towards her, "I am so sorry for what I did. I was, well-," he stopped and floundered about for words. Hermione snorted.

"Oh, get up, you big baby," she sighed, rolling her eyes. As much as she wanted an apology, it was uncomfortable to watch him squirming on the floor in that undignified manner. This attitude surprised her and she took another look at Ron out of the corner of her eye. She had really cared about him, apparently. As much as she hated to admit it, even now she just wanted the mess between them to be over…not that things would ever go back to normal. Not that she wanted them to. But she did want him to just apologize so she could stop hating him and focus her hatred somewhere more appropriate, like back at Malfoy. Incredibly, and for whatever reason, her world had been turned topsy turvy over the last several weeks and she wanted normalcy. She wanted it desperately, more than anything, because the last thing she needed, as she faced an increasingly uncertain future, was an unnatural present.

So, Ron stood up and dusted off his knees, coughing a bit to stall for time. He really had wanted to apologize properly to Hermione, but it was so difficult. It had always been difficult. She was one of those girls that just _knew _things and genuinely _was _right all the time. It rankled with him that even though she had liked him she never let him win at anything, or be right, or…well. Still, he knew she deserved one now, as did Ginny- _well, not as much as Hermione, but it seems I can't get out of it now._ He eyed their wands and decided to just go for it.

"Hermione, I'm sorry. I really am. I should never have believed all those things about you…Harry was right all along to be after me about it. I was just so hurt that you wouldn't trust me or confide in me, well, I lost it, and I'm sorry. I had no right to call you names or treat you the way I did." He paused and searched for more words. "I only- I only said those things about you and me because I still care about you a great deal, Hermione-," he started, but stopped when he saw her face.

She was red up to the roots of her hair and stepped forward, pointing his own wand at him. "Ron, the apology was good enough. But I won't tolerate any of this nonsense about how much you think you _love _me. Say another word on the subject and I'll curse you into next Tuesday!"

He spluttered for a moment and she waved the wand about angrily. "No! Just have the courtesy to shut up and listen!" He stopped trying to speak and stared at her, mouth agape. "And shut your mouth!" she yelled. He shut it with a click of his teeth and she nodded, then handed his wand to him. He took it quietly, staring at the ground, suddenly very, very unsure of himself.

"Look, Ron. I appreciate the apology. I think it's the first real one you've ever given me. But things are never, ever going to be the same between us. I will never like you that way again. I could never be in love with someone who treated me like garbage."

His head came up and his eyes met hers, face aflame. "What about Malfoy then?"

She scowled at him. "Don't you dare try to bring anything else into this. This is completely between you and me, Ronald Weasley. And the way you treated me gives you no right to ever question me or my personal actions again!"

He was taken aback, but he knew she was right. He lowered his eyes to the floor again and muttered another gruff, "I'm sorry." Then, after a moment of silence, "I won't bring it up again. I'm really, really sorry, Hermione."

Her eyes softened a bit and she looked at him thoughtfully. Ginny cleared her throat. He looked up and smiled weakly at her. "I'm sorry about how I treated you as well, Gin. I know neither of you has any reason to forgive me, but…," Ginny nudged him a bit and he looked uncomfortable. "But I want to make it up," he said quickly, as if admitting it was painful.

"Good," Hermione said brightly. "And no, I can't forgive you yet. But at any rate, let's get on with this."

He looked scared for a moment. "What exactly is it you need my help with?"

"Oh, an experiment," Ginny remarked casually. Ron's face got even longer, if it was possible.

"Wha…what experiment?" he squeaked.

"Well," Hermione said, still smiling, "it's top secret. Something we're planning for Gryffindor. And we need you to swear you'll keep it a secret. You can't tell anyone!" she said, wagging her finger at him.

He nodded weakly and said, "I promise."

"Well," Ginny said, almost apologetically, "actually we need you to do a magical swear that you won't tell anyone."

Hermione also looked almost sorry- _not sorry enough, _Ron observed, a little panicked at this point. "Right. See, we can't really trust you not to tell at this point. I mean, you've apologized, which is grand, but it's not enough for us."

"Fine," he sighed, and took the magical oath. Ginny and Hermione looked at each other gleefully and then shoved him towards the sink.

"What's this?" he asked, suspicious.

"The first part of the experiment!" Hermione said, almost cheerful. He looked down at her smiling face and gulped. _The things one does for friendship, _he thought to himself and glanced down at the innocuous looking sink. There was a pink bar of soap sitting in the soap dish.

"Just wash your hands," Hermione explained patiently. Ginny stood by expectantly. For each of the pranks, the girls had rigged up the system to only recognize people who had mistreated Hermione. Unfortunately, that list included Ginny and Hermione herself, but they had created a set of wards to act as protection for themselves once they activated the charms and hexes.

Very carefully, he turned on the tap. A stream of innocent water flowed out. He looked back at them and they nodded. He turned around and ran his hands under the water briefly, then reached for the bar of soap. As he began to lather up, he noticed the soap started to break down in his hands…it was turning a green color and almost looked like…

"Bogeys!" he yelled, and dropped the bar of soap into the sink. He ran his hands back under the water to rinse the mess off, but the minute the water touched his hands, it changed. Insects and spiders started to crawl from the tap and he yelled again, stumbling backwards, flinging his hands about to get them off.

"Bogeys and spiders! Aah! Hermione, Ginny, help! They'll eat me alive, they'll- aaah!"

He shouted at them as he danced around the restroom wildly, waving his hands about his head, accidentally dropping bugs onto his own head. It made him yell even louder and his leaps became wilder. The girls stood there laughing at him for a moment and then Ginny flicked her wand. The bugs and gunk disappeared from his hands and he looked at them, stunned, for a moment and then turned around to look at the sink. It was running clear water again.

"Hermione," Ginny grinned, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes, "that was brilliant!"

Hermione was bent over in the throes of laughter herself and couldn't answer. She toppled over onto her bum, holding her sides in aching amusement. Ron looked from one girl to the other, confused, still batting at his head and arms occasionally.

"Is…is that it? Is that the only thing you're going to do to them?" he looked distinctly uncomfortable and embarrassed that he'd been so easily frightened. Ginny and Hermione kept laughing. He felt the corners of his own mouth begin to turn up. Well, if all he had to do to start making things right again was endure a little humiliation- _and terror, you pussy-_ it might be worth it, at that.

He coughed loudly to get their attention. "I said, anything else?"

Hermione giggled and Ginny hiccupped.

"Oh, there are loads more," Ginny said. Hermione's eyes sparkled as she glanced at the redheaded girl.

"_Loads_," she echoed.

Ron looked at them both in consternation. Since when had Hermione become such a prankster? He suddenly grinned. Who cared?

"Better test them out, then," he smiled sheepishly.

The girls looked at him and Hermione's eyes narrowed.

"This doesn't mean I've forgiven you," she said, frowning. "Don't jump to any conclusions."

He ducked his head. "I know…but this is the least I can do. Besides, you said you wanted me to be a willing participant."

Ginny nodded. "We do." She put a hand out and helped Hermione stand. "By the way, Ron, I'm still sending that owl to Mum."

His face went pale, but before he could say another word Hermione spoke to him.

"Ready for the next experiment, Ron?" she asked him. He found that all he could do under the circumstances was nod, face pale. Perhaps this one would kill him. Anything would be better than having to own up to what he'd done with his mother.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Ron ran screaming from the girl's restroom, his hair looking suspiciously like it had been on fire. He careened down the blessedly empty hallway, hollering about spiders from hell. The two girls peered out the doorway after him. 

"You don't think he'll tell?" Hermione asked as they watched him rush away, shrieking.

Ginny shook her head. "I know he won't," she said. She sounded confident and calm.

Hermione glanced at her. "Oh?"

Ginny turned a pair of mischievous brown eyes on her. "The oath was a time delayed memory charm. It will go off on its own in about five minutes, so he'll forget what we told him and walk straight into all the traps, same as everyone else." Her eyes twinkled. "That way he gets to experience your revenge all over again."

Hermione gave a sudden whoop. "Ginny Weasley! That's positively masterful!" She paused, thoughtful. "Doesn't that mean he'll forget about the apology, too?"

Ginny grinned impishly. "You don't mind, do you? This just means you can torture him some more…maybe squeeze another two or three apologies from him."

Hermione tilted her head, thinking. "Mind? Why would I mind? In fact, I think it would be fantastic if we tested out the pranks some more…," her voice trailed off and she eyed Ginny. The redhead snorted.

"Well, what are we waiting for?"

The two girls laughed a bit more and headed out of the rest room after their quarry, calling his name as they ran.

"Ron! Hey, Ron! Wait up!" The redheaded boy had stopped his desperate run and was now standing in the middle of the hall, trying to remember why he'd come to the second floor.

Hearing their voices, he turned and smiled nervously. That was it! He was supposed to meet Hermione and explain things to her! He waved a hand in greeting. The girls waved back. They were both grinning like idiots…_that's a good sign_, he thought. He didn't even notice when Hermione's smile became predatory. The two witches cast glances at one another before circling him.

After all, it wasn't quite time for dinner yet, and they were pretty sure they could make another round of tests before having to head to the great hall. Before any of them would be missed.

"_Accio _Ron's wand!"

* * *

**To _mofo_: Yes, if you have read what little there is of _Just Another Day_, I used _poobah_ in that as part of the name of some obscure magical disease. I like the word. It rolls off the tongue...but I'm not the only author who likes it. Gilbert and Sullivan used it as the name of their Lord High Everything Else in _The Mikado_. It is spelt with a one letter difference to mine, however: in their case, _Pooh-Bah_.**


	26. Chapter 26: Perchance to Hope

**Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise; all characters and ideas belong to J.K. Rowling.**

* * *

That Friday dawned cold and gray- the chill from the windows sent many a student stumbling out of his bed to right the shutters and then crawl back under the covers, shivering desperately. Hermione rolled over and smiled. The full blast of November was upon them; no more misty or rainy afternoons; only snow and frost and damp sweaters hung on the radiator to dry. They were well on their way into one of Hermione's favorite seasons: winter. Still, there was work to be done. They had a few weeks yet until Christmas break and she meant to make the most of them.

Christmas…the time for fires and chestnuts and…stew with lamb and beef! Plum pudding and mulled cider! She burrowed back under the covers and dozed for a few minutes, her mind wandering to food and presents. She would have to start making purchases soon. _There are a few people left I need to select gifts for, after all. _As she lay there, drowsing away in blissful warmth, she heard noises begin to emanate from the direction of the bathroom. She opened one sleep encrusted eye and was struck by the light pouring into her dorm room.

"Somebody shut that door, will you?" another voice, from the bed to her right called. Hermione grunted her agreement and suddenly a figure appeared in the doorway, blocking the light.

"That works," her roommate muttered and second later began emitting snores.

The figure hesitated, then moved forward upon seeing Hermione's roaming, bleary eye.

It was Parvati; she wore a worried expression on her face that made Hermione perk up a bit- not that she wanted to help the girl; Parvati had been particularly cruel to her during the preceding months. Still, prefect was prefect. She struggled to sit up and reached for her glasses. The cold air in the room hit her like a blast and she tugged her blankets up about her shoulders.

"Well, what is it, Parvati?"

The other girl had the good sense to look somewhat ashamed at disturbing her last few minutes of sleep, but it didn't keep her from talking.

"Hermione, there's something wrong with the bathroom," she began.

Hermione furrowed her brow. "What do you mean, 'something wrong?' I need more to go on than that. Were you there just now?"

"Er…yeah, well, there were," she lowered her voice, "_bugs_."

"Do you mean insects? What kind? What are they doing?'

"They're…coming out of the showerheads," Parvati finished, rather lamely. She looked at Hermione as if expecting the prefect to get up and do something about it.

Hermione shrugged and crawled from the bed, keeping her blanket pulled tight about her. Really, when were they going to fix those shutters?

"I'd better come take a look then, hadn't I?" she muttered, then led the way out the door. Her roommate grumbled and she slammed the door shut behind her. As she approached the bathroom, the sounds intensified. They were…shrieking. And _crying_. Hermione stifled a laugh as she looked in upon the scene.

Parvati peered over her shoulder anxiously. "Are they still there?"

Hermione looked over the bathroom. She wandered in amongst the crying, panicked girls and pulled back a shower curtain to reveal nothing but harmless water flowing its steamy way into the drain below.

"There's nothing here," she announced, proceeding to check each stall in turn. The girls behind her, shivering with their wet and soapy hair in the damp air looked at her warily.

"Nothing is there," she reiterated. As if to reassure them, she turned on the tap in an empty stall and stuck her hand under the water. Nothing happened. She turned around and looked at them, smiling. "I suggest you hurry with your showers, girls! You've wasted an awful lot of time just standing about and you know how much hot water Ravenclaw uses. Come on, hop to!"

Frightened into submission by the unspoken threat of a cold shower on an even colder morning, they jumped back into the stalls and went to work. Even then, though, the hot water supply was greatly diminished. Hermione almost felt bad…they had wasted so much water, letting the showers run like that.

She wandered out of the bathroom, past a grateful Parvati, and made her way back to the warm embrace of her bed. A smile lingered on her face as a new scream pierced the air of the dorm. Oh, blast. One of them must have discovered that the wet towels turned into snakes.

Sure enough, another girl came bursting back into her room. Before she could speak, however, the snoring roommate from the bed beyond hers sat up and threw a shoe at the waif who stood shivering in their doorway. The girl went down like lead. Hermione looked over at her roommate with an approving glance. The other girl grunted again and rolled over, going back to sleep. Laughing to herself, Hermione followed suit. After all, this was no morning to be up and about- she needed to conserve her energy for keeping a straight face at breakfast. Smiling in her once again drowsy state, she curled up and went back to her visions of sugar plums.

Unfortunately for Hermione, breakfast would not be the cheery festival of pranks she anticipated. Instead, it was after that eagerly awaited morning meal when her troubles would begin in earnest.

* * *

To begin with, Draco was mostly recovered. He was walking with the help of a cane; and he bit off the head of anyone who elbowed him in the ribs; but he was up and about, which counted for an awful lot in Madam Pomfrey's book. Especially since she claimed she'd never seen such a tough set of bones to heal before. So, she'd sent him out of the infirmary more than three days ago in the hopes that he would pay attention to the instructions on his bottles of painkiller and bone strengthening potions. He'd been attending every meal of the day, as difficult as it was for him to manage all the stairs to and from the dungeons of Slytherin, and he'd made all his classes since his release. He'd even been present for Harry's apology to himself and his father, although it had made him ill.

His father had noticed the palpable hatred between the two boys, radiating more heavily than usual and had been so kind as to provoke Harry purposefully on his son's behalf. It hadn't made Draco feel any better though, when the other boy simply glowered at him. Potter had refused to be baited and had sat there quietly, taking the abuse. Privately, Draco was glad for the silence; although the explanation of Potter's surprisingly well tempered behavior made his stomach churn: when he and his father had exited the headmaster's office, he'd seen a head of bushy brown hair duck behind a nearby suit of armor.

His brows had lifted in surprise. So that was Potter's reason for quiet. Hermione was waiting for him and he didn't want to cause any more trouble, lest he be expelled and unable to protect his lady friend any longer. Draco's lips had parted in a half snarl, but, mindful of his father's presence, he had stayed quiet. He didn't want any more trouble either, to be truthful. Still, he meant to make Hermione very much aware that he knew what she and Potter were up to.

Here he was, still suffering the undignified fate of a cane at the youthful age of sixteen, and his former love interest had tossed him for the boy who'd put him in such a state. _She couldn't even wait until I was well again to start shagging him, the bitch_. Somewhere in the recessed spaces of his mind, Draco knew he was being irrational. Certainly, Hermione may have expressed an interest in him, but she had never completely declared herself to be his. She hadn't even accepted his offer of salvation! So why should he expect her to be thoughtful to his needs? Aware of his feelings? Empathetic to his situation? _You still don't even know for certain if she really did- _does- _have feelings for you, _he told himself. _So stop whining right this minute!_ Still, there were the rumors floating around his house…_why is it always rumors with this one_, he asked himself rather idly, staring into his tea cup as the warm, amber liquid inside it grew cold.

Almost as soon as he'd returned to his house, hobbling into the common room on his good leg, he'd been greeted by cheers. It seemed word had spread quickly of his 'plot' to ruin the golden trio by stealing Hermione's heart and later breaking it. His housemates were treating him like a hero, fallen in action while serving his master. Draco wondered what the Dark Lord would think of his misinterpreted actions, if he thought of them at all. As much as he wanted to be a part of the Dark Lord's plans, he wasn't sure if he was ready for service just yet. He shuddered away from the thought and focused his mind instead on the conversation of his classmates. Some were discussing mysterious goings-on in the Gryffindor dormitory. Draco smirked as someone regaled the table with tales of spiders crawling from the taps and showerheads and towels that turned into fearsome beasts.

Suddenly, the scent of something burning began to waft across the hall. Turning in their seats, everyone cast glances about, trying to find the source of the smoke. It was a horrible smell; it reminded Draco of…_burning hair_! His smirk grew wider as he watched half of Gryffindor house burst into flames the minute their pumpkin juice touched their lips. Almost the entire table was evacuated from the hall, screaming and stupidly trying to touch their flaming locks, in desperate attempts to put out the fires. The rest of the students burst into laughter after their initial shocks, although several wisely pushed their cups away from them.

Draco started to turn away- even though the even was somewhat amusing, he was generally bored with life at that moment. The only thing he was really interested in seemed to be permanently out of his reach; and he wanted nothing more than to simply survive the next few weeks, go home, and have finally have a proper rest back at the mansion. Maybe his mother would even have the house elves bake his favorite…his thoughts trailed off. A pair of brown eyes had caught his and they were filled with unmistakable hatred.

_Hatred? Is that what it looks like, or is it heartache? _He blinked once, uncertain that she was actually looking at him. _Oh. _She wasn't. It must have been a trick of the light. No, she was turned towards that little Weasel, hiding laughter behind one delicate hand. Funny…she looked thinner than she had a few weeks ago, even. He blinked again. Hadn't she recovered from all that awful muckraking? He frowned once and felt a sudden tug on his sleeve.

"Draco?" came a small voice.

Looking down, he saw Pansy staring up at him with wide eyes. _Oh, shit._ He'd stood up without realizing it. Now why had he done that? He'd only been thinking of Hermione…how thin she looked…how tired her eyes were. _Shit! _The expletive roared through his mind again. Now he was gritting his teeth. What was wrong with him? He shouldn't even be thinking about her anymore, let alone having feelings of…responsibility and, and…_compassion_. No, no. _Love. _He gritted his teeth harder and shook off Pansy's hand. _Stop it! What are you doing? What on _earth_ do you think you're doing?_ Oh, fuck. Now he was walking over there, to the other side of the room. Towards her. Oh, _fuck._

* * *

The truth was, Draco knew exactly what was wrong with him. It was simple, and plain, and made perfect, and yet no, sense at all. He was still in love with her. It was the only explanation for the feelings he'd had the last few days- violent, sudden outbursts of emotion. Sullen quiet. Unreasonable demands. None of those things really would've seemed so out of the blue if it wasn't for the fact that they were accompanied by long periods of silence where he would sit. Nothing else. Just sit. In front of the fire, at a window, in his desk, on his bed. He didn't do anything else- no talking, no movement, no reading, _nothing. _It was actually starting to worry Crabbe a bit, but when he mentioned it to Goyle, all he got was a beating about his ears.

One other thing accompanied the strange spells of uncharacteristic quiet and seeming sloth. When he sat, he would keep one hand inside his robe, over his heart. While his housemates noticed, none said a word. Pansy had assumed, wrongly, of course, that he was heartbroken because he'd been forced to break up with her in order to properly trick the Granger girl. She was a little puzzled that he hadn't asked her out again yet, but she knew the day would come. Soon. She hoped. However, Draco had other plans.

The quiet spells he indulged in had begun during his three day sojourn in the medical wing. There hadn't been much to do with his leg hanging in the air, so he'd spent his time thinking. About Hermione. About how he wished she would visit him. About how pretty she was when she was angry. About how awful he felt when he saw her cry. About how was it impossible that he should love a mudblood as much as he did her. If it was love. And, by the way, why hadn't she gone to see him?

He'd spent a great deal of time preening what little of himself he could reach in the vain hope that when she did finally show up, he wouldn't look like a complete mess. Every step, every click of a heel, every creak of a door, every single sound that was made had him alert and hoping- oh, so desperately _hoping _it was her, that she would be the one to prance around a corner and offer him flowers, a kiss, a gentle hug so as not to hurt him…but she hadn't come. It had filled him with anger, then sorrow, then agonizing need. The longer she'd stayed away, the more wretched he'd felt.

On his last day, when it had become apparent that she was never going to come- that was the day he'd tried to lock those feelings away. To compartmentalize them, like he did with everything else in his life. _After all_, he tried to tell himself with as much dignity as possible, _gods don't let little set backs like this one get in their way. No, they move on and take what they want. _

_Yes, _the voice in his head replied, _and that's why you sit alone, holding the set of photos of you and her over you heart like a sentimental fool. That's a wonderful example of just taking what you want from life. _The voice snorted at him derisively and he recoiled from his own truth. But it was too late now. He was standing over her at the Gryffindor table, casting a shadow like a pall over Hermione. Potter saw him and visibly bristled, but her hand stayed him. An angry whisper raced around the remainder of the table and he sneered. So. The rumor that he was the would be destroyer of the golden trio had reached the courageous Gryffindors. So be it. Only Hermione turned around and offered him any sort of a greeting.

"Draco," she said, her voice pinched.

"Granger," he replied smoothly. Then, before she could ask, he continued, "Prefect business. May I speak to you for a moment?" He eyed the people sitting about her disdainfully. "Privately," he added for good measure.

Hermione's eyes narrowed, but she stood up. "Fine." Her voice was curt. Snobbish. Pained. He allowed a small smirk to pass his lips before he turned and maneuvered his way out of the great hall with his cane going before him.

* * *

If he hadn't turned around so quickly, he might have seen the soft look that flitted across her eyes when she saw his cane. She hadn't noticed it before- _how do you miss something that ostentatious, you dolt? _But the truth was that she had been avoiding him since he'd been released. She had seen him in passing, here and there in a class, but for the most part she not only avoided speaking to him, she avoided _looking_ at him. Ignoring him, essentially. Still, that cane was hard to miss…_and he's actually using it. _She felt a surge of anger at Harry well up in her breast and gave a little gasp. Oh, no. Oh, _no. Not those feelings again. No, no. _She'd been certain that she was happy, recovering. Had she been fooling herself?If Draco noticed her agitation, he said nothing. Once they were out of the hall he turned another few corners, leading them to the courtyard. It was too chilly a day for most of the students to want to be outside, so they were alone. 

She turned on him with frightening speed. "Well? What is it you really want to talk about, _Draco?_"

The venom in her voice stung him and he blinked, startled. He gripped the head of his cane tightly. His first instinct was to spit out some equally ugly accusation. Instead, he forced his breathing to slow. The cold was eating into his injuries already. He shivered a bit and reached a careful hand up to wrap the scarf about his neck more. Hermione crossed her arms impatiently.

Draco looked at her, letting his eyes travel slowly along her face, looking for…_what? A sign she loves you? _He furrowed his brow and dropped his eyes. She took a breath as if to speak again and then he asked his question. It was the one thing that had bothered him the most.

"Why didn't you come and see me?"

His voice was so soft and sounded so uncharacteristically _bewildered _that she didn't know how to respond at first.

"What do you mean?"

He frowned, as if he didn't want to have to ask again. As if it was painful to ask. "In the infirmary, when I was there for so long…why didn't you come and see me?"

Now _she _was bewildered. Where was this coming from? Was he still playing his sick game?

"I should think it was perfectly obvious why I didn't go see you, Draco," she replied, as frostily as she could.

He laughed- a pathetic sort of sound- and brought his grey eyes back up to hers. "Do you mean the ridiculous rumors you've been hearing? About how I was trying to seduce you in order to break up you and your precious friends?" He took a step closer, leaning hard on his cane, and reached his hand out. "Hermione, you can't believe that."

"I can! I do believe it, you ignominious prick!" Hermione felt her temper flare and worked hard to get it back down. She needed to speak with Draco calmly about this. She needed him to understand that she was _onto _him and he would never, _ever_ hurt her again.

Draco let his hand fall limply back to his side. "Hermione," he whispered, sounding as if she'd struck him. She bit her lip and shook her head at him.

"No, Draco. I offered you my friendship on good faith and you offered me a promise of survival while my friends perished. You offered me a living death! On top of that, you didn't mean any of it! Whether you were really trying to win me over to Voldemort or you really did like me, none of that matters! It was all lies and I don't want any of it. I don't want your pathetic explanations, or your justifications- you could lie your way into Heaven, I'm sure, Draco. And that is not something I want any part of, not now and _not ever._"

He was angry now, she could see that. In spite of his pallor, two bright spots of red dotted his cheeks and his eyes were sparking in a familiar way.

"I offered you those things because I did love you and I still do! You were so worried about your future you couldn't even concentrate on being alive _now. _I only wanted to give you a way out of that fear, Hermione. I only wanted to help you!"

"I never needed nor asked for your help, Draco Malfoy!" Hermione felt tears spring to her eyes. "And now Harry is facing expulsion and all the good things I had in my life are a complete mess-," she paused, shaking from anger. "It's your fault, Draco. Things are just now getting back to normal…I'm trying to make things better now, you idiot, and here you've gone and tried to muck them up again. I won't let you keep doing this to me! My feelings belong to me and if I choose to like Harry and forgive Ginny and stop eating because I can't sleep for dreaming of you-!"

She stopped short, horrified at what she'd just said.

Thankfully, although Draco's grey eyes sparked like quicksilver, although hope sprang up painfully in his chest, he ignored her last remark.

"Potter!" he spat. "And was it Potter who convinced you that you don't care for me anymore? What can he possibly offer you that I can't?"

"No, I've been convincing myself- not that your confession to your father didn't affect me at all," she responded.

Draco looked dumbstruck. "What do you mean?"

"I may not have gone to see you, but Harry's bed was right next to yours. He heard every word of your conversation with your precious Death Eater dad."

Draco thought furiously, trying to remember exactly what had happened. Hermione kept talking, murderous intent dripping from her voice like honey.

"Oh yes, I know all about how you told him you were just getting close to me so you could hurt me. So you could-," her voice faltered for a brief, unbearable second, "breakmy _heart_." The last word came out in a choke. Draco stared at her in horror.

"I said no such thing!" he protested.

"Of course you'd say that now," she spat back. "Don't expect me to believe such garbage."

"But I…I didn't! He used Legilimency on me and saw part of our argument before I could block him- Hermione, you must believe me! I never said _a word _about any of it to my father. He interpreted the findings how he wanted to and I never confirmed it. I didn't say anything, Hermione. Nothing."

She looked at him, increasingly disbelieving. How could he stand there and lie to her? After everything she'd just said? The nerve of him! She advanced on him swiftly and pulled her wand, jabbing him harshly in his stomach.

Draco's eyes welled up and he doubled over, hanging onto his cane with both hands. Hermione immediately backed off.

"What's wrong?" She looked at him warily, as if expecting it to be an act, for him to strike like the coiled snake he was. When he didn't right himself after several seconds, she tentatively approached him and took his elbow, guiding him to a nearby bench. He lowered himself and perched on the edge. His breathing was shallow and all the color had drained from his face.

She repeated her question, genuinely concerned this time. Draco looked up into her eyes once. They were glossy. He looked away just as quickly and worked his cheek, as if trying to make a decision. Hermione sat beside him primly, hands folded uncomfortably in her lap. Then, without looking back at her, he slowly unhooked his robe, spread the folds, and reached down with one hand to roll up his sweater.

Hermione looked away at first, but he spoke one word. "Look," he gasped in a hollow voice. Timidly, she looked back over and all her breath left her in one long hiss of air.

The pale skin of his abdomen was swollen and covered in bruises. Some of the red, puffy marks had started to turn a deep purple. The cut figure he had cultivated so carefully was obliterated by the marked and scarring flesh of the beating he'd taken. He left the shirt up only a moment more and then carefully rolled it back down, covering up the mess that was his body. He struggled to hook his robe again and Hermione brushed his hand out of the way.

"Let me," she said softly. It was done up with a quick efficiency. He tried to catch her hands in his, but she pulled them away.

"What was that display supposed to prove?" she asked, turning her head away again. The state he was in puzzled her, confused her. So what if Harry had done that? He was only thinking of her safety.

Draco let his hands drop to his cane once more. "Nothing, I suppose." He looked at her askance. "You'll believe what you want to. I just wanted you to know…to _see_ what I went through for you. I don't really care if it changes your mind or not." He turned his face upon hers again and she saw the torment that was so readily apparent in his eyes. It made something rear its head within her; something she didn't want to deal with anymore. She tried to look away, but felt trapped.

"What do you want me to say? That I still care about you? That I've changed my mind? I-," she struggled for words. Should she say it? Would it matter if he knew now? Ever? Or would it just be torture for her to tell him?

Hermione felt so torn, so broken about him. She had cared about him! She had wanted him to be a better man! Then, with a choking sob fighting its way into her throat, she realized it was all still true. And it was all still impossible. She stood up and turned to face him.

"I loved you, Draco," she said quietly, "and I tried to give myself to you."

He felt his heart lift uncertainly, as if spreading wings that had not been stretched for a very long time. But then the tone of her voice, the import of her words, hit him like a wave of icy water, leaving him awash in misery.

She took one more shaky breath. He felt as if his whole world rested on that heartstring, on those next words. Tension had gathered between them thickly and he felt his breathing grow shallow once more.

"I offered myself to you," she repeated, pausing. He took a breath- and then she reached into his chest and ripped out his heart. "But _you_- you wonderfully _pathetic_ figure of a man- _you_ _failed_."

Hermione moved away from him, unwilling to stay and watch his final collapse. His defeat. She turned one last time, wanting to give him some kind of comfort, but wanting to hurt him in spite of herself. "Whatever I still feel for you is irrelevant, Draco. You and I are and always will be…impossible."

Then she was gone, back into the warmth of the school. He stared after her blankly, trying desperately to process what she'd said. What had she meant? She still had feelings for him, but she wouldn't acknowledge them because he'd _failed_? He scoffed. Impossible. _Gods never fail. Especially tests that involve random values. _

With perhaps more spring than was good for him, he drew himself off the bench and proceeded inside after her. It was amazing, really, the resilience of his heart. Or perhaps that was the famous Malfoy insensibility. _Probably simple, hormonally driven stupidity, _the voice in his head told him. He told it to sod off. Either way, while she may have broken his heart with one breath, she'd restored his hope with the next. He allowed himself a small smirk as he made his way to his first class. Really, she was _most _delightful. His courageous, incorrigible Gryffindor.

* * *

**Author's Note: Just another couple of chapters left! Gee, Draco sure is ridiculously optimistic, isn't he?**


	27. Chapter 27: Love, Duty, Necessity

**Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise; all characters and ideas belong to J.K. Rowling.**

* * *

"Ron, for the last time, I'm not letting you copy my homework," Hermione said through gritted teeth. Her patience was wearing thin. The rest of the weekend had gone frightfully well, all things considered. It hadn't even bothered her terribly when Draco had proceeded to follow her about like a lion, or a _tiger, _or some other kind of restless mega fauna, stalking her on the plains of the Serengeti. She was able to ignore Draco by that point; she'd had days- _weeks_- of practice, after all. But then Ron had practically pounced on her after dinner that Sunday evening and was now insisting- _the nerve of him_­- that she help him with his work. As if she would. She snorted. _I haven't forgiven him for everything yet, the idiot. _

In fact, it was Ron's behavior towards her that got to her more than anything else. His forced friendship with her- his idiotic assumption that everything was back to normal- only made it more apparent to her than ever that things were _not _normal and she really wasn't sure if they ever would be normal again. Not eating well, not sleeping well…it was true that on the surface, things looked fine. Even having Malfoy after her was kind of within the realms of possibility, but she knew deep down that she was not well. With a grim shake of her head, she focused back to what Ron was spouting.

"What, just tonight? Got too much on your mind? Come on, Hermione, it won't take any effort on your part, just let me see your work-," he stopped as she turned to face him, a hopeful smile lingering on his face.

"No, not 'just tonight,' Ron. Not tonight and _not ever_," she hissed and stood, packing her books away with a single-mindedness that bothered Ron to no end. He stood up as well and flitted about her like a bothersome insect.

"What do you _mean, _Hermione?" he whined. "You're not going to help me with my work ever again? How could you say that? That's _cruel_, Hermione!"

She snorted in answer and stomped from the common room, her book sack in hand. Ron looked after her, bewildered.

"Sit down, Ron," Lavender sighed. Ginny rolled her eyes at her brother and stood up to follow Hermione.

"Maybe next time you can keep a muzzle on him, too," she added to the blond girl. Lavender smirked, but kept writing.

"Oy, what's that supposed to mean?" Ron asked, indignant, but he sat down anyhow.

"Never mind, Ron. Now, let me take a look at your work," she insisted, and the redheaded boy gladly shut up.

* * *

Hermione stomped down the hallway, ignoring Peeves' complaints about the noise she was making. Ooo! That Ron Weasley! He just didn't get it, did he? Just because she'd offered amnesty to Ginny didn't mean she wanted him hanging all over her, or even anywhere _near _her, for that matter. Her fondness of his sister did _not _extend to him. Honestly, if it weren't for Harry…she paused on him and her eyes softened. So did her brain. _Really, that boy drives me just as crazy as Ron does. But at least he's sensible and cuter. _She blushed at the thought. _Oh? But not as cute as Draco, _a voice in her head sang. She snarled at it and it shut up. Cute? No, Draco Malfoy was not cute- _handsome describes him better-_ in fact, he didn't even matter to her! So there!

Those pathetically sad grey eyes and the unsuspecting pout of his lips amidst the bruises upon his jaw…no, he didn't matter at all. _So if he doesn't matter, why were you noticeably chilly towards Harry all day? _She frowned. That was true. She had been distant with him…it was as though she couldn't help it, couldn't help feeling that he had been unnecessarily cruel to the other boy. After all, hadn't Draco told her that he hadn't said any of those awful things? _That doesn't mean he's not lying, _the voice reminded her. She frowned again and wished her mind would make itself up. _Draco or Harry, _she told herself, _you can't have both. _

_Besides, _she continued, _Harry was just doing what he thought was best. He didn't know how Draco felt- _said_ he felt- about me at that point. He was trying to help me out from what he interpreted as a rough situation. That's all. _Still, if that was true, why did she feel unsettled at the thought of him pounding the life out of Draco? The fight, although she hadn't seen it, had been brutal, according to Ginny. The events of the past few weeks had revealed a side to Harry she hadn't been entirely aware of. Oh, sure, he had gotten into spats now and then and had certainly been very upset from time to time- so upset she was worried about what he'd do- but he'd never been so recklessly violent before. It concerned her a great deal. Especially if she wanted to have any sort of relationship with him. She shuddered and turned another corner.

_On the other hand_, she thought, _Draco's violence has often been directed towards me, while Harry's is always directed towards other people. _The thought gave her some comfort. _Maybe I'm not making the wrong decision._

She sighed and came to a stop before the doors of the library. Should she go in, seek comfort in the dusty stacks of books which had been her only friends just a few scant weeks before? Or perhaps she should go and visit Myrtle instead. It had been a while since she'd done that. She shook her head and straightened herself out. _No, _she thought, with a dejected glance at the front desk. _No, I don't think I want to battle Madame Pince for special privileges tonight. _

With another sigh, she turned away and began to walk. It was rather nice to just take a stroll about the school with no particular purpose in mind. _And no particular people following me. _She stopped at a window and looked outside. The moon was rising high and bright in the clear winter sky. She was certain if she were outside she'd be able to see constellations aplenty. The thought excited her for some reason and she practically ran all the way back to Gryffindor to grab her coat, burning her way past Ron and Lavender and the rest. She was in and out so quickly they didn't even look up from their 'studies.' In less than a minute she was back down the stairs and on her way out into the cold night air, never noticing the figure following behind her.

* * *

As well intentioned as Hermione's parting words to Draco had been, he made sure she soon realized how stupid of her it was to be honest with him. It became increasingly clear over the remainder of that Friday and the following weekend that her words had only strengthened his pursuit, bizarrely enough. It was driving her mental.

Instead of the quiet, covert chase he had made of her in the previous weeks, he was now pursuing her with the dazzling brilliance of a peacock. He strutted about, showing off his injuries; bemoaning his fate of a cripple; all the while declaring he had suffered so for the love of Hermione. It was most unsettling.

Of course, if she'd had any inclination to consider the problem more closely, his behavior would have made perfect sense. His reasoning was simple: now that the entire school believed him to be dogging Hermione for his own _nefarious _purposes, he _could _openly pursue her. In fact, he encouraged the rumors in Slytherin that he had already won her heart and was now continuing his evil plot to subdue her to the dark side and ruin Potter. After all, it was practically true, he reassured himself.

So while it drove her mad, it drove him to even greater lengths. For instance, instead of now skulking about in dark corners in order to follow her around, he could walk freely, in the open air- _right behind her_- and no one would think twice. Aside from dodging the occasional hex from one of her more vigorous protectors, he was able to do as he pleased, which suited him to no end. In fact, he was his own biggest obstacle to his torment of the poor girl. It was his cane and shortness of breath that kept him from keeping pace with her, from finally capturing a few moments of solitude with her- solitude he needed if he ever hoped to convince her of his feelings for her.

Tonight, however, luck was with him. He'd been hiding out by the door into Gryffindor house, in the hopes that she would eventually escape to the library. His hunches were right, and from there it was an easy enough task to hobble along behind her. His leg was growing stronger every minute; and his shallow breaths were mostly a show now, for her sake- to lull her into a false sense of security. His feeling of triumph grew in a rather doubtful manner, though. She was not entering the library as he'd expected.

Instead, she was wandering the halls aimlessly, staring out windows, mooning at the sky. What was she up to? A look of confusion and helplessness passed over her face, followed by a strange peace. He wondered if he might try approaching her then, but in a flash she was gone and he had to hurry to keep up. When he finally caught sight of her again, she was rushing out of her house with a coat in hand. He paused, realizing her intent, and summoned his own scarf and hat to himself. Then, casting another silencing charm on his cane, he walked swiftly after her.

* * *

_This is ridiculous, _she told herself as she stood shivering in the first wintry blast of chill air. _I love winter as much as the next person, but icy winds should be accompanied by snow. If I'm going to freeze, I'd like to at least be able to have fun while I'm doing it. _She smiled a bit. _But if it snows now you won't be able to see the stars, _she reminded herself. The wind was drifting lazily through the trees and around the castle in small gusts, waving the occasional branch, picking up long discarded leaves. Now it found its way beneath her coat and she buttoned it all the way to her chin, pulling her scarf tightly about her neck. No, still too cold. With a burst of inspiration she pulled it over her head and then wrapped it about her neck. Then she strode most purposefully out into the night. No, it wasn't so bad now that she was covered up and out in it. Her body acclimated itself to the breeze and she turned her face away as it swept up around her, lifting the tails of her scarf.

Well, at least no one would bother her if she were outside. Maybe here she would be able to think clearly, put a few demons to rest. _What demons do you have? _Indeed, what demons could a girl of sixteen possibly have- a girl who held the attentions of two pretty young men and had all the knowledge and intelligence at her fingertips she could want. _You want for nothing, Hermione Granger. You have family and friends and a roof over your head, food to eat…and yet…_and _yet_.

As the wind died down again, she lifted her head and faced the sky. Oh, the stars were bright that night. They winked and blinked curiously at her and she smiled up at them. Suddenly she felt as if she could even forgive Ron. It was hard not to feel magnanimous when faced with such a breathtaking display of nature. How could she worry about boys and school and wars at a time like this? Maybe Draco was right about her- maybe she didn't live enough. _The universe is so great, _she wondered, _and I am so very, very small…_her thoughts were displaced by the crunch of stiff, frostbitten grass behind her. She turned and blinked warily into the darkness.

"Who's there?" she called, her hand slipping into her coat pocket, grasping her wand.

A bark of laughter met her ears and she frowned. "There you are!" came a voice over a sudden gusting of wind.

"Ginny? Harry?" she asked tentatively, taking a step forward.

"You look like some peasant from Merry Old England- like from one of those fairytales we had to read growing up!" The other girl laughed and mimicked her head wrap, pulling her own scarf up around her ears.

It was Ginny. Hermione relaxed and slid her hand back out of her pocket, joining Ginny's laughter.

"I suppose I do look pretty silly," Hermione conceded.

Ginny nodded, still giggling, then stepped forward and tucked her hand under Hermione's arm. She looked up at the sky.

"What were you doing, match girl? Watching the stars? _Divining _their secrets?"

Hermione snorted. "Hardly. Just…looking." She joined Ginny in looking up, tilting her head back. The girls stood in silence for a few minutes, contemplating.

"Makes you feel glad to be alive, doesn't it?" the redhead asked softly. Hermione nodded.

"Which is something you aren't very often," Ginny continued.

"What do you mean?" Ginny stepped away, but Hermione kept her face turned upwards, her nose growing cold as the wind nipped through the air about them once more.

"You know what I mean," she said firmly. "You're not alright. I know you don't want me prying into things," she raised her hands to put off Hermione's protest, "but Harry is worried about you."

Hermione looked down then, staring at Ginny with wide eyes. "Harry is…worried?"

Ginny nodded. "As much as your lying has improved these last few weeks, you're still not very good at it. You can't hide the fact that you're not eating well…or sleeping much." She paused. "He talked to Neville."

Hermione smiled grimly and looked away.

"I see. And Neville told you, and now you're asking me about it."

"We're your friends, Hermione."

She looked back up into Ginny's face and found only honesty. It surprised her.

"How can we go back to things that quickly? That simply?" she protested.

"Because it's necessary! Hermione, if we're going to face whatever is coming, we need hope, don't we? We need something solid and tangible to hang on to. After all, what we've done to each other in the past won't matter much if we're dead, will it?"

Hermione shook her head and looked away again. She could feel tears stinging beneath her lids, blurring the edges of her vision. Ginny placed a well gloved hand on her shoulder.

"The point is, Hermione, I know that's all you've been thinking about for weeks. I know that underneath your good grades and revenge plots you're bloody miserable." She stopped. The tears rolled their way onto Hermione's cheeks.

"I need to sit down," she murmured. Ginny gestured behind her to a bench located behind some barren bushes. The light from the entrance of Hogwarts shone between the leafless branches, casting a net-like shadow about them as they sat.

"_Harry _knows you've been miserable," Ginny continued. "But he isn't sure what to do. We can't help you if you won't talk to us about it."

"I can't talk to you about it!" Hermione yelled, curling her hands into fists and beating them against her thighs. The tears continued to roll down her face. She felt them freezing onto her skin as the wind blasted across the yard again.

Ginny sat beside her quietly for what felt like several minutes before speaking again. She murmured comforting words, handed Hermione a handkerchief and watched as the other girl blew her nose and sniffled desperately against the fabric. Then Hermione began to talk.

"When no one was talking to me…especially after all the trouble of last year- you see, it just meant so much more to me after all of that. The silence, I mean. So it started when no one was speaking to me, at the start of this year. I'd sit and imagine that was what it would be like if everyone died. You know? That was the only reason I ever dreamed I'd be alone that way- if everyone was killed…gone. I know it's morbid, but it was how I felt. I wished that I may as well have been dead, it hurt so badly to have that happen, to have everyone treat me that way." She looked over at Ginny apologetically, who was working her own nose, looking like she might start bawling at any minute. "I'm not trying to make you feel guilty. Please…don't. You asked, and I'm telling," she finished. Ginny nodded.

"I know. I'm sorry. Go on."

"Anyhow, the more I thought about it the more I realized that, except for us, that's how Harry is. He's already lost people to this war. And it all started to seem kind of, well, inevitable. All our dreams- I want to help people, Ginny. I wanted to maybe work in the ministry someday, help stop the corruption. I'd never allow the kind of incompetence they thrive on! I could help make sure that there was communication and trust and that none of the things that put us in the place we're in now, as _teenagers_, would happen. Adults would do their bloody jobs for once!

"But with this mess that we're in, the position we're in, well. It seems kind of hopeless to dream like that anymore. Instead of helping people the way I want to, I'm going to be forced into a role, into doing something that is expected of me, because it's _necessary_." She shrugged and looked away, back into the night sky. The stars remained clear and perfect. She wiped at her face. There was no use for crying.

"We're all going to die sometime, Ginny. I expect that, for us, it might be sooner rather than later."

Ginny stared at her, a strange look working its way across her face.

"And what about Harry?" she asked.

"What about him?"

"Surely you feel something for him? So what about him? Are you just going to spend all the time you have with him thinking about how none of it is any use because you're just going to die soon anyhow?"

"Of course not!" she retorted, angry. Her face flushed. "I do care for him, I just-," she stopped.

"Is it Malfoy, then? Do you care for him, too? Is that why you're pushing both of them away? Are you even being honest with yourself?"

Hermione gasped. "I am! But I don't want-!" She stopped again, afraid to say the words.

"You don't want what, Hermione? You don't want to be with Harry because you're afraid of losing him to the war the way Cho lost Cedric? You don't want to cry into your pillow every night?"

"Stop it!" Hermione yelled. She bent over her knees and placed her hands on either side of her face. Her voice began to release itself quietly, controlled.

"I went to the divination booth at the carnival," she confessed softly. Ginny snorted. "No, don't. You know I never believe that garbage. But what she said truly bothered me, Ginny. I can't explain it." She lifted herself and looked at her friend.

"She told me I would be married twice. And the mirror showed me only one person. She said it was the person I loved the most- augh! It's such crap!"

"It isn't, or else you wouldn't be so upset," Ginny pointed out calmly.

After some minutes, Hermione continued. "Before the image resolved, it kept shifting. I think it may have just been Harry messing around with it, but…," her voice trailed off.

"But you can't be certain," Ginny finished. "Well, that seems straight forward enough. So you might get divorced, big deal!"

"No!" Hermione shook her head. "Honestly, Ginny, can you imagine _me _getting divorced?"

Ginny frowned for a minute, then rolled her eyes. "Oh. I see. So that's what all this is about. You think that any boy you get interested in is in danger of later getting killed and thus making you a widow, fulfilling _Lavender Brown's _prediction."

Hermione nodded sullenly. Ginny whacked the back of her head.

"Hermione Granger! You are being completely ridiculous. Number one, you don't know that you will end up marrying any boy you date. Number two, if you're so worried about it, why not go and ask Lavender about it again? I mean, for Merlin's sake! You don't even know if you might end up with a divorce or annulment or something! And don't feed me that 'true love no divorce ever' crap. What if he beat you? You'd certainly consider a divorce then, wouldn't you?"

Hermione nodded, again sullenly. She couldn't deny the sense of Ginny's words.

"I know I'm being silly," she said quietly.

"Silly? You're being _stupid_, match girl." She grinned. "Besides, if you're so concerned about him dying, why not date and marry Malfoy first? Then he'd be the one to die, no big loss," she laughed.

"Except he's the one the mirror showed would be my true love," Hermione mumbled. Ginny fell off the bench.

"What?"

"Come off it, I'm not repeating myself!" she snapped. Ginny stood up, still chuckling.

"Okay, okay. I get it. I see why you're so upset. But, Hermione, you can't go through your life this way."

"I _know_," the other girl moaned, sinking her head of bushy, scarf bundled hair into her hands.

"Hermione," Ginny said, very seriously, "you need to make up your mind. You've got to focus on more than survival. You know, if you really like Draco that much, you should just go for it, for once. Have some fun and see what happens. I know what Harry said about him being just out to get you, but maybe you could play him back. Besides, aside from screwing with your mind he hasn't really hurt you, has he? So take advantage. Have your revenge."

Hermione shook her head. "I can't do that, Ginny. I can try to be happier and get past whatever this is, but I can't just let myself go that way." She stopped the other girl from speaking. "Don't you see? Everyone else is treating our time here at Hogwarts like it's our doorway to youthful fun and memories, but it isn't. We can't just do whatever we like, love who we want, be what we desire. Our childhood is not like our parents' or our grandparents'. We're the _ones_, Ginny. We're the ones who are going to help Harry Potter save the world, and we _have_ to live up to that or else he _might not succeed_."

Her voice held such conviction that Ginny trembled. So this was what she was feeling. She was feeling the loss of her childhood, of her present, of her potential future. She refused to be with either boy she loved because she _couldn't_ be with them and still trust that Harry_- not herself_, _Harry_- would succeed in destroying Voldemort. It was an awful lot to take in, but she finally understood. It reeked of selflessness and sacrifice and it made her want to puke.

She said as much.

"I think I'm going to be sick." She sat back down and Hermione glanced over at her.

"Yeah, that's how I've felt all semester," she sympathized.

After several seconds passed, Ginny lifted her head to the sky again. A single cloud passed across its visage.

"So are you going to explain all that to Harry or do you want me to?" she asked.

Hermione laughed at her a little. "You can, if you really want to. But it should probably be me."

"I still say you should give him a chance."

"Which one?"

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "You know what I mean."

Hermione nodded her head once and looked up to the sky also.

"I know, although I suspect Harry will be fairly understanding. I think he already shares most of my feelings on the subject. He's changing too, you know."

Ginny laughed and stood up. "It's hard not to notice," she agreed. "Are you coming in?"

"Not yet." Another pause.

"Well, don't be out too much longer." She paused and laid a hand on Hermione's shoulder, giving it a light squeeze.

"I won't." The other girl's eyes smiled back at her and Ginny began to move away, back to the warmth of the school.

Hermione turned about suddenly. "Hey, Ginny," she called. Ginny looked back.

"Thanks," Hermione said. Ginny flashed her a smile and started back up the steps.

* * *

As she turned back around to face the solemnity of the empty gardens and trees, she heard another footfall behind her. Thinking it was Ginny again, she stayed where she was. She was feeling comfortable now; a slight chill marred her perfect evening, but aside from her face she felt fairly warm.

"I'll head back in another moment, Gin, don't worry about me," she said cheerfully. Her eyes wandered up to the sky again and she smiled as the wind whipped some of her hair loose from under her scarf.

"When have I ever worried about _you, _'match girl?'"

Her whole body stiffened. How _dare _he? How dare he intrude on her private conversation, her moment of solitude and peace and quiet with a friend? Was no second sacred? Was no minute of her time her _own? _She closed her eyes to the sky and sat very still. Perhaps he was like a T-Rex. Perhaps if she sat very, very still- _motionless_- he wouldn't see her and would leave her alone.

Draco saw her recoil from the intrusion of his voice, his presence, and allowed a wave of guilt to pass over him. He moved forward and stood beside the bench, leaning lightly on his cane, looking up at the night sky. Still silence. He shifted slightly and frowned. Then he did something rather remarkable for a Malfoy.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "That was unkind of me."

Still no sound, but she opened her eyes and continued to search the night sky. Her whole body was tense, as if she was ready to spring up and escape at any moment. The stars seemed to spin out before her in an endless tapestry. She blinked slowly, lowering her head to face Draco.

"I wouldn't expect anything less," she replied coolly. A shudder ran through his body and he looked back to her. The uncharacteristic guilt continued to pound through him with the force of the sea. It was practically unbearable and he gasped from the impact. Struggling to save his dignity, he sneered.

"That's smart of you," he retorted hotly. Too hotly. She blinked again and continued to stare at him, eyes level and calm in spite of her inner turmoil. Honestly, how she managed to keep her head in the worst of all possible situations would never fail to amaze him.

Suddenly, all his thoughts and plans from the last two days escaped him under the barrage of her clear brown eyes. He couldn't keep to himself any longer. He had to know.

"You love me!" he cried accusingly, picking up his cane and swiping it recklessly at the bare branches beside him, sending a shattering of dead twigs and bark to the frostbitten ground. She recoiled further and her eyes finally looked away. That silence again…_why will she talk to that chit of a girl and not to me? Not to the boy she wants? Loves? _His temper flared and he spoke before he could stop himself.

"Why can't you just admit it? Why do you forgive everyone except me? Why don't you at least _try_-?" The sentence ended in a strangled cry and he looked everywhere except at her. Draco wasn't sure of many things right at that moment, but he knew for certain that if he had to confront those eyes again he would fall to pieces. He heard a sigh.

Hermione turned her head and looked him over. He was the one refusing to look at her now. It was funny how their roles seemed to keep reversing themselves. _He's as much of a child as you are, _she told herself. _Confused and hurt and angry at the world, although he doesn't believe what you do. _The thought softened her features into an almost smile. It was sad, really, how he could hold himself together so well, yet the very method of impartiality that allowed him his dignity was what caused his emotional, irrational outbursts. _He doesn't deal with his feelings, _she realized. _He just shuts them away and takes them out when he needs them…so he's always in control, except when he doesn't understand what it is he'd feeling. _She eyed him once more and looked away again. _Maybe we have more in common than I thought. _

Her eyes searched out the stars once more. _Maybe if I had dealt with how I felt when all this trouble began, I wouldn't still be in this mess. Maybe…maybe this isn't entirely Draco's fault. Or Harry's. _She furrowed her brow as another cloud marred her view, then, coming to a decision, patted the space beside her.

Draco caught the motion out of the corner of his eye and he started. She was inviting him to sit with her. She was _inviting _him. His heart leapt into his throat and he cursed himself. Why could he never control himself around her? What was it about her that evoked all these unwanted feelings? It was like it always had been- he insulted her and drove her to anger when all he wanted to do was tell her how much he cared; how much he could offer; how wondrous she was…_why?_

He tried to speak again. "I really am sorry-," but she stopped him.

"I am too."

He looked out in the opposite direction from her. The grass was glittering with frost, the walls of the castle shone a cold, uneven grey. Wind whipped about them both. It was beginning to pick up speed and he could see more clouds moving in, high in the night sky over the gables of the school.

"I'm sorry that I ever said those things to you, the other day. I've been leading you on, Draco. I thought I was doing you a favor, being honest with you. I shouldn't have. It was wrong of me."

"How can you say that? You love me!" he practically snarled the words out again. An unfamiliar feeling was rising in his throat and while he couldn't identify it, he was certain that he didn't want Hermione to witness it when it broke.

"I love Harry too," she pointed out calmly. Too calmly.

"You only think you love him," he replied, snorting, whacking at some dead flowers in the bed beside the bench.

"Oh, how many times do I have to tell you?" she finally cried, spinning about, catching his shoulders in her hands, shaking him. "It doesn't matter if I'm head over heels for you! We cannot be together!" She stopped, leaning her head against his chest, tears slipping down her cheeks for the second time that night. Her breathing was hard and fast, as if she had an unpleasant job to do and wanted it over and done with as quickly as possible.

"You heard what I said to Ginny."

He couldn't speak. For the life of him, he couldn't speak. Strong, willful, imposing Draco Malfoy was dumbstruck by the force of her personality. Her willpower. It was impossible to face such an onslaught. So he nodded dumbly, clutching at her arms, holding her to him.

"Know this, Draco," she whispered. "I won't risk the cause and I won't risk anyone's life unnecessarily. There are some things that are…," she choked on the words, "_more important_." She lifted her head and stared into his face, her eyes searching out his. He could see the dots of light reflected in her eyes…glassy and brilliant. The feeling in his throat grew overwhelming.

"Please, _please_ understand. And _leave me alone,"_ she begged, her hands moving forward, finding the lapels of his coat, pulling him forward and locking his lips onto hers. He was lost in their warmth and immediacy, their urgency. The strange feeling began to subside as he felt that familiar warmth uncurl itself and reach out to touch her. Then, just as suddenly, she was up and away from him and he could hear her running back to the castle, slipping on an icy patch, righting herself, running again…desperate to escape him. _Desperate to escape herself. _Her unspoken words haunted him.

_More important than us._

The unfamiliar feeling returned in full force and he felt his body instinctively choke back a sob. Without ceremony, he laid down on the bench, feeling the warmth of the spot where she had been just a moment ago against his cheek. The sobs continued to come, forcing their way past his throat and out his mouth.

* * *

Pansy found him there an hour later, face practically frozen to the stone from the tears he'd shed. With much coaxing, a light warming spell, and the aide of Goyle, she got him standing up and led him back into the castle: shivering and the most miserable he'd ever been in his entire life. She was positive a certain young _mudblood _was responsible for the state he was in and she was determined to make her pay. Well, once she'd nursed her beloved Draco back to health, of course. She smirked and hefted him against her shoulder again. Ah, the things one did for _love_.

* * *

**Author's Note: Good gods. That took some heavy editing. I'm still not one hundred percent pleased, but that is it. I can't take it any more. Besides, I have more editing to tackle with the final chapter (28) and it will take some serious time. As for now, enjoy.**

**To _mofo_: I know, I think I'm getting a bit lazy with my explanations. I will try to do better. If it seems like she's a little forgiving in this chapter, remember that she's stressed and tired of the whole mess. That sometimes makes people _resigned, _which was the effect I was going for here. I hope this was angsty enough for you. ;)**

**To _Paloma_: Here is another chapter for you! Thanks so much- I'm happy you like it. Although this story will be over soon, a sequel is scheduled. **

**To _carrie_: I'm glad you like it and thank you! The rest will be on its way soon, I hope. **


	28. Chapter 28: Absolutely Not an Ending

**Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise; all characters and ideas belong to J.K. Rowling.**

* * *

Hermione was convinced she'd finally gotten the point across to Draco. The world could finally start spinning again- if it would spin at all. If it hadn't lost all momentum in those tedious weeks of lies and rumors and sacrifice. Hermione wasn't sure if anything would ever be the same, but she wanted to try. She _had _to try. 

In many ways, she was in as much denial as Draco was; a fact she realized quite painfully as her heart gave great wrenches within her chest as she ran away from him that night. The truth of her words hurt her as much as they did him, but she was convinced she at least had the fortitude to survive. Besides, she at least Harry to return to- wonderful, kind Harry. As she raced through the halls and up the stairs she fancied she could see his face before her, his shock of wild black hair…and then he was there.

He met her at the door of the common room- he'd just been returning from his detention- and took in her disheveled, shivering, tear streaked form with one long look. Then he wrapped her close to him and his arms were all she knew for the next several minutes. There were words, she knew, but she wasn't sure what they were. All she could think was that he was holding her, after _everything_. After all the stupid things she'd done, after her confessions and lies, after _Draco_…and he was holding her. Quietly, calmly, as if it was only natural. It made her cry harder.

Finally, after the initial onslaught had subsided, he held her away from him and brushed her hair from the sticky mess on her face. "Let's go inside," he smiled. She nodded. There was an air of finality about the entire experience and she followed him into the common room without question.

"Harry, what-," she heard Neville and Harry converse quietly for a few minutes. Then, at that late hour and in the relative solitude of the common room, she and Harry sat down on a sofa- side by side. They didn't exchange any words. Harry stared into the fire, brooding. Hermione sat beside him, leaning back into the cushions, letting her body finally relax. At some length, Harry spoke. His voice was clear, questioning, nonjudgmental.

"Tell me," he requested softly. His eyes never moved from the fire. She smiled and felt the tension drain from her shoulders. And, bravely shouldering her burden, she told him.

* * *

Draco knew something had changed between the two of them the moment he saw them the very next day. Hermione entered the Transfiguration classroom with Potter there at her side, holding her book sack for her. He was solicitous of her- pulling out her chair for her, handing her the bag, making sure she was settled. Then, before his disbelieving eyes, the other boy leaned over and gave Hermione a small peck on her cheek. He watched as her eyes lit up, a smile broke across her face- an answering smile upon Potter's visage. Then the Boy Whom Malfoy Hated turned around and went to a different seat. 

Draco felt his jaw hanging open and closed it in defeat. He'd never seen such a gentlemanly performance from Potter before; it shocked him. It made him want to crawl back into his bed and continue the crying binge he'd started on the night before. When he'd finally stopped crying he'd fallen into a strange silence that had frightened his friends. It had frightened them so much that when Crabbe had asked about it last night, Goyle had not beaten him about the ears. Pomfrey had told them not to worry, that he'd probably just picked up a chill from lying outside in the cold for so long. She'd reluctantly pressed more potions upon him at Pansy's screeching demand, then shooed them all from the infirmary. His determined silence and blank stare had only stopped when Pansy finally began crying as well, wailing in that loud and annoying voice of hers.

"What did she _do _to you, Draco? Tell me so I can hex her eyes out! I could kill her for hurting you!"

Draco hadn't the heart to tell Pansy that Hermione had stomped all over him in a purely verbal manner. After all, he didn't even have a heart just then. No, his was somewhere in the Gryffindor dormitory, being roasted and devoured by one bushy haired know-it-all, he was certain.

Now, as he watched her under the auspices of that same silence, he felt the empty space in his chest begin to ache once more. He wondered how long it would hurt. Perhaps he would die first. That seemed to be Hermione's opinion of all their futures. Death. It seemed appropriate, somehow…considering his heritage. A strangled laugh escaped his lips. The head of bushy brown hair turned slightly, as if acknowledging his presence. He looked down to his book, cracked it open and ignored her the rest of the period. He didn't notice the sad glance she cast upon him. He didn't notice the helplessness that lingered in her eyes for days afterwards, either. He had better things to do. Like stare at her while she wasn't looking.

* * *

They continued on in that manner for three more weeks and the tension between them grew to an almost unbearable level. Both refused to acknowledge the shared atmosphere, afraid of looking one another in the eyes. Afraid of being near one another. Afraid of…well, it was no use thinking about it. The Christmas break was almost upon them before Pansy's manic scheming brought them together once again. The pug faced Slytherin had been planning for days, ever since her rescue of Draco. 

She'd known, instinctively, that the tears Draco had so obviously shed the night she found him had been over _her. _Over that shameful _mudblood._ She must've entrapped him with her witchly, dirty ways. The thought made her so angry she almost marred her already imperfect face by bursting a blood vessel. Granger had to _pay. _To pay for destroying her beloved Draco's heart. For destroying her own hopes. Pansy wasn't entirely sure how Granger had done it- gotten Draco to _care _about her, but she knew she had to fix the situation. And Pansy knew she was just the person to destroy Hermione Granger in return.

* * *

It was the Friday before they left when she finally confronted the mudblood witch. She'd been playing little pranks on the girl all week, dumping water on her- or ink, potions, sludge. Anything she could reasonably get her hands on. She'd been calling her names, stealing her books…and now the moment she'd been waiting for was upon her. Her mouth was dry with anticipation, but she went forward anyhow. _Draco. Think of Draco. _If she'd been able to step back and look at her thoughts more objectively, she would've realized how much she sounded like a Victorian housewife. But then it didn't matter because she'd called out to her, the other woman and they were suddenly face to face, surrounded by a hallway of wary students. 

"Mudblood!"

Hermione turned around slowly, her head tilted to one side, as if she couldn't believe someone besides Draco had called her _that_. She eyed the frightened Slytherin standing in front of her and rolled her eyes. Gods, she was getting sick of Pansy's childish games. They were more of an annoyance than anything else. She'd wondered several times if she shouldn't speak to Draco about the pesk, but had decided that facing him would be worse than anything Pansy could dream up.

"What do you want, Parkinson?" Hermione asked in a weary voice.

Pansy stepped forward, chin jutting out defiantly. "I want to challenge you to a duel!"

A gasp rippled around the watching students and Hermione shrugged Harry's hand off her.

"Can't."

"Why not? Scared, you filthy, boyfriend stealing witch?"

Another roll of her eyes.

"It's against school policy, you dumb cow." Another collective gasp.

"Shut up! I know you still have some kind of hold on him! Once I've…_defeated _you, he'll see how wrong he's been." Pansy stood back a little, suddenly very aware that although she was taller than the witch in front of her, Hermione Granger didn't receive praise from every single professor for _nothing._ She beat back the feeling of foolishness that threatened to sweep her away and stood taller.

Hermione shook her head, as if Pansy was being more than foolish. As if she had to set her straight, gently. She tried to do exactly that.

"You're making a fool out of yourself and him, Parkinson," she said quietly. Dangerously.

The other girl stamped her foot uselessly. "Prove it. Meet me tonight- the Room of Requirement." Then, her entourage of other useless girls following closely behind her, she turned and swept away.

Hermione stared after her, mouth agape. She turned to Harry. "The- the nerve of that bitch!"

"Will you go?" Harry's eyes were concerned.

"Of course not," Hermione frowned at him. "I forfeit the entire ridiculous business. She can _have _the prat, for all I care."

Harry grinned in relief. "Well, you have to admit she's got guts."

Neville walked up, looking after the retreating Slytherins as well. "That wasn't guts, Harry. It was a lack of brain activity. Hermione could pulverize her."

Hermione shook her head again. "Please, no more. Look, I need to go take care of something…I'll see you guys at dinner, okay?" She hurried off down the hallway, accompanied by the jeers of lingering Slytherins. If Death hadn't occupied her thoughts for a few weeks, it was back in full force. And calling for blood. _I'll fucking kill him, I swear. That prick. Getting his girlfriend to do his dirty work for him! The implication that I- and now I could get in trouble for even being challenged to an unauthorized duel! I'll fucking kill him…I really will, this time. _Hermione had decided she'd born the final death throes of his insults for long enough.

* * *

She found him in the library, his hands wrapped about his head, hiding his face. As if he were avoiding someone. She said as much. 

"_Avoiding_ me, Draco?"

At the sound of her voice, his shiny blond head looked up in surprise.

"_Hermione_?" he croaked in disbelief before she dragged him to his feet. "What's this…about?" he asked, uncertain of what to do when faced by such anger after so many weeks of silence. He would've been happy to see her, if it weren't for the fact that she had her wand pointed under his chin.

"You know very well! Your girlfriend is causing me grief on your poor, _injured_ heart's behalf, you idiot!" she shrieked. When Madame Pince tossed her a nasty glare, she began to drag Draco from the library. He didn't protest.

She marched them both along the corridors, muttering the whole time about Pansy and her hare brained pranks and challenges- her name calling, her ill behavior. Her ugly face. And now Hermione seemed to think that Pansy's behavior was _his _fault? Like he'd set her on Hermione like some kind of bizarre watchdog? Draco felt his own anger beginning to grow. First, she dragged him away from his perfectly fine and quiet study session and hiding place, then she proceeded to insult his friends and his intelligence. After so many weeks of total disregard, it was too much to stand. As they passed the doorway of an abandoned room, he jerked his arm back and shoved her inside roughly.

"This will do fine- get in," he commanded. He knew how she hated being ordered about. _Well, _he thought, _this meeting is her damned choice this time!_ _At least now both of us are in completely miserable moods- an even playing field. _The faintest of smirks crossed his face.

* * *

The minute the door was shut and they were alone, Hermione started in on him in earnest. 

"This is all your fault, Malfoy!" she screeched, turning on him. "If you're going to wander about like some lovesick puppy than at least have the courtesy to not do it around your girlfriend! Haven't I had enough trouble already without Pansy barking about my heels?"

"My fault?" he snorted, "I don't even like the blasted girl anymore; you think I'd ask her for help? Besides, I'm not the one who refuses to be with the man she loves because of some stupid prejudice!"

"I'm not the one who compartmentalizes all his feelings because he can't handle the truth!" Hermione spat. Draco stumbled backwards from her as if she'd struck him. His face grew pink with anger.

"How dare you! How dare you insinuate that I can't see what's wrong with our relationship?" Draco decided he didn't really want to hear anymore, but he was drawn to the words she was spouting, fascinated. This little mudblood, _his _mudblood, was concerned not just for herself, but for him as well. Not only that, the fact that she'd thought all this through meant she'd considered the idea of a future with him. It would have been almost…_touching_, if they hadn't been so intent on murdering one another just then.

Hermione scoffed. "We have no relationship, Malfoy," she snarled.

"You think this is what I want? For my family to know that I'm in love with a mudblood? To be so degraded? I've already ruined my reputation just by having this conversation with you at all!" He could feel anger coursing through his veins and worked the inside of his cheek, trying to calm down. Trying to be rational. Unfortunately, nothing about the situation was rational, or practical, or even a good idea. She was right, of course, he had jumped into the affair without connecting it to the rest of his life. He had been thinking only of himself, as always.

"Oh, like that little speech is going to make me love you- _be _with you!" Hermione yelled, suddenly so furious that she couldn't see straight. She lunged at Draco and had him by his robe front before he was even aware of her. "You try to make love to a girl one minute and the next you're insulting me and my entire family!" Her grip tightened and he brought his hands up to hers, trying desperately to get away from her. He wasn't sure what he would do if he didn't and finally decided he couldn't possibly be held responsible for his own actions.

She was yelling at him again, "What did you think I would do when you told me how you felt, huh? How did you think I would take it? You suddenly decided after all this time, after all these years of telling me you hate me and how filthy I am, that you want to kiss me? That you think I'm attractive and intelligent and worth your time? And then-," she got up right into his face, her cheeks bright red, her eyes flashing, "then you have the gall, after _seducing _me, to first offer me a place with _Voldemort _and when that doesn't work, to tell me that I'm not good enough and you're dishonoring _your _family name?" She paused, her breathing ragged. The tension that had been building between them for weeks had broken and the anger she still felt over his unwanted intrusion into her life was raging freely once more. The anger she felt from still being powerlessly, hopelessly in love with a potential _mass murderer_. It was too much to be born silently.

He eyed her, partly frightened and, as much as he hated to admit it, partly turned on. "I ought to kill you, you bastard," she said, preparing to pull out her wand. As horrible a mistake as all this had been- _you don't really feel that way_- and as much as they needed to stop yelling and screaming to avoid detection, Draco did the only thing he knew how to shut her up.

His mouth felt like it was on fire the minute his lips touched hers. At first he was afraid she might try to kill him anyway, or at least try to escape, but she surprised him, as always. He felt her melt into the kiss and she opened her mouth to his almost immediately. Her tongue was so, so fiercely possessive that he barely knew how to respond; but moments later he plunged his own tongue into her mouth and groaned into her mouth; hauling her up against him in a bone crushing embrace. He held her to him with one arm and let his other hand travel into her robe, slipping it from one shoulder. At the motion, Hermione moved into his touch a little more. Draco felt her give a little sigh as he finally tore his mouth from hers, leaving two very red, very swollen lips in his wake.

He kissed his way down her jaw to her neck, sucking only lightly, careful of her dignity, her feelings- she'd never want to be seen in public with such marks upon her body. He wondered if she'd ever be happy, _glad, _to have a boy mark her as his own in such a manner. Unfortunately, those thoughts only reminded him that she was with Potter now, and he felt himself lose some semblance of control. Off came the robe from the other shoulder and he ran his free hand up under her school sweater: feeling the smooth skin of her stomach, feeling the erratic motion of her chest as she tried desperately to keep breathing. He stopped suddenly, his head in the crook of her neck, his lips against her skin, her hands on his face- in his hair. She was practically begging him to touch her. And yet he remained still, his head a flurry of uninvited thoughts.

She was right. About everything. And here he was, seducing her again, not thinking about the consequences, not worrying about how all this would affect either of them. He kissed her neck again, more thoughtfully, his tongue sliding across her skin terribly slow and deliberate. She moaned: a small, quiet sound of pleasure that made the skin of her throat vibrate against his mouth. He felt the rest of his control sliding, falling into the abyss where his sanity had obviously been disposed of weeks earlier. His fingers began working to unclasp her bra beneath her sweater and he felt her tremble beneath his touch. His mouth traveled up to her ear and whispered words of comfort and encouragement. The sweater came off. The bra followed it. She clung to him, as if afraid to let him see her.

It was partly the truth, anyway. She _was _afraid. Hermione had never let a boy do much besides some heavy petting before. It was uncanny for her that now, her oldest enemy was the very person she was allowing to see her this way. It frightened her, in spite of the fact that she'd been wishing for just such a moment since Ginny had first planted the image in her mind weeks before. _Have some fun. Some revenge_. Instead, now that she was embracing the opportunity to be with him, her undeniable _passion_ for his touch frightened her. She wasn't sure she had what it took to say good bye to someone in such a way- she'd never expected the moment to be now, in an empty classroom on a dusty desk. Now that she thought about it, she wasn't sure she had what it took to be with anyone in such a manner. Still, here she was- aching for him deep in her belly, her naked torso encircled by his arms.

She snaked her arms about his neck and felt the cool air of the deserted classroom prickle her skin. Draco's robe was soft and wooly against her exposed breasts and she tucked her head into his shoulder, not wanting to see his face, refusing to look at him. _What are you doing? Stop it. Stop it! _a voice in her head yelled at her. She shook her head against his neck and he looked up, lifting his mouth from her skin, breaking contact. He felt his heart pounding with more determination than was necessary and tried to look at her. She stayed where she was; she was shaking now.

"Do you need me to stop?" Draco whispered against her hair.

She shook her head again.

"Are you afraid?"

She nodded this time and he felt his heart contract painfully. She was afraid of him; he'd gone too far; he'd completely bungled the job of confessing his feelings. Well, he _had _done that, but there was no help for it now. It was old news, in fact, and now was a time for decisive action. He shifted his posture and ran one hand over her bare back, rubbing it gently, hoping the gesture was soothing. She shivered again and he berated himself. She was cold. Cold and afraid. _Merlin, Draco, how much of an idiot are you? You can't do anything right! _Well, he couldn't reach her clothes on the floor without putting her down, and the arms wrapped tightly about his neck seemed an indication that he shouldn't even think of removing her. Instead, he carefully moved one arm, then the other, shrugging his own robe off. His fingers went to the clasp at his neck and brushed her breasts as he removed the robe. She whimpered and suddenly brought her head about, bringing her lips to his once more.

Hermione decided she'd rather be kissing him than have him look at her, so she initiated another heated tangle of tongues and lips. His hands came about and draped his robe over her shoulders. So that's what he'd been doing. She snuggled into the kiss and felt him wrap his arms about her once more. Her mind couldn't shut up, though. _What do you think you're doing? Malfoy still thinks you're some stupid mudblood! He'll never recognize you're just as good as he is; he won't change his ways! _Her mind whirled under the onslaught of his lips. _But he does love you, he told you so himself_, she replied. Her heart continued to lurch into her chest, ignoring her reasoning. _Stop…stop! What does it matter if he loves you? It'll be too late for you in another minute, you stupid, stupid, stupid, girl! It'll be too late for Harry…_oh, _Merlin_. What was she doing?

Draco felt Hermione begin to shake again and this time forced her arms from about his neck, pulling her away. He looked her dead in the face.

"You can't do this," he murmured, then amended his statement. "_We _can't do this."

Hermione forced herself to meet his gaze, but wrapped his robe about her a little more closely. She'd hoped to have this conversation afterwards, but obviously he was feeling some kind of onset of morals. She sighed. "We _shouldn't _do this," she corrected patiently.

He looked at her closely. "Do you still love me?"

"Oh for Merlin's sake! What has that got to do with it?"

His gaze didn't waver. "It has everything to do with it," he said quietly.

Hermione chewed on her lower lip and looked to him again. "I pity you."

Draco's eyes darkened and he frowned. "Not quite the answer I was looking for."

"What do you want me to say, Draco? That I love you and I'll never leave you? We're from two different worlds, literally! This isn't some _Pretty in Pink _wrong side of the tracks romance," she sighed, shaking her head. "This is real and dangerous and if we're not careful both of us could get killed. I can't let myself love you- _be _with you- because you'll just break my heart." The words were so desperately familiar she had to choke back crazed laughter. She wondered if they'd ever break free of the dance they'd begun. It seemed no matter what she said or what he did they kept circling each other like pathetic moths to the inevitable flame.

Draco felt his heart give another wrench in his chest and he suddenly wanted to cry. Damn it, he cried over no one! Certainly not her, ever again- he'd promised himself that three weeks ago. _Never again. _He took her by the shoulders and shook her. "Do you think I want to break it? Do you think I just figured I'd make you fall in love with me for a lark so we could _both _get hurt?"

"It's a question of ethics, Draco. I can't be with someone who believes I'm trash at the core of me, no matter what you think of my looks or my abilities. You'll never _change._ You'll never change for _me_," Hermione pointed out and he opened his mouth as if to protest, but she laid a finger on his lips. "And I wouldn't want you to. If you change and become a better man, Draco Malfoy, it should be because of you; because you deserve more; because you're smarter than how you've been raised."

He felt the tears well up in his eyes then, ready to spill over at any moment. He tried desperately to push them back inside, make them go away, but they remained, hovering on the edge of his vision. Hermione's face grew dim and he blinked. Oh, _gods._ He couldn't cry now, not in front of her. Draco hastily thrust her from him and started for the door; he'd turned from her just in time. The tears were falling fast now and there was nothing he could do to stop them.

Hermione stood back and watched him started to leave. _No! Well for fuck's sake, girl, if you're going to give him up at least apologize…or something. Do something! _Her mind shrieked at her and she moved forward, running after him. She caught his arm just before he reached the door. He stopped, but didn't turn. Were his shoulders shaking?

"Malfoy?" No response. "Draco?" His head moved imperceptibly. She wrapped her arms about his shoulders and hugged herself to him. "I'm sorry, Draco," she murmured. She felt his body shake a little more. Oh, gods, he must be _furious _with her. She probably shouldn't be so close to him if he was this angry. Instead of running, though, she tightened her grip.

"I wish I could love you," she continued. "In many ways, you're the kind of guy every girl dreams about. But we just…we can't risk it. And until the war is behind us, we can never, ever be together. Why can't you understand? Why did you have to pick me? Why me?" Hermione paused, searching for the right words. "I don't want to be the bad guy here- I don't want to have to be the one to remind you how different we are, how dangerous our lives are. I never _asked _for this to happen! I wish, for once, that I didn't have to be the responsible one and could just let myself love you…I feel so, so…oh, _gods, _Draco! Why did it have to be _me?_" she finished quietly, the words tumbling out of her in a frustrated whisper.

He remained silent for several seconds. When he spoke, his voice sounded thick and unnatural. "I don't know…I don't _know,_" he moaned, and then his voice cracked and a huge sob wracked his body. He was going to lose her. Not because he was the wrong person or even because she couldn't forgive him for all his past misdemeanors. No, he was going to lose her because of blood. Because of how he'd been raised to think and feel. It wasn't something he could help! They were going to spend the rest of their lives believing that the other one was wrong and it was too much- _too _much. His shoulders buckled under the weight of her hug and the strain of holding back his tears.

He slumped against the door and Hermione tugged on his arm, slowly turning him around. If he was going to be angry with her, she wanted to at least see his face. He turned towards her and leaned his back against the doorframe, tears still streaming down his face. She stared at him, startled by the sight of the great Draco Malfoy crying and felt tears spring to her own eyes. Obviously she was going to have to be the strong one in this relationship. _Non-relationship, you mean._ She shook her head, wiping at her own eyes and reached her hands up to his face. He tried to jump back from her touch and only succeeded in banging his head against the door. His face contorted in pain.

"Ow!" he yelped, and curled away from the door, sliding into one of the empty seats. Hermione sat next to him and gave a little laugh as he buried his face in his hands. He brought his head up and glared at her.

"So now you think it's funny to laugh at the little pureblood who didn't get his way?" he snarled.

She laughed again and took one of his hands firmly in hers, caressing it gently. He didn't try to tug it away. "No, but I do wish you'd let me take care of you."

"To make up for the fact that you'll never be with me?"

"Something like that, yes," she said, smiling sadly. "The truth is, I'd already made up my mind the last time I saw you…but you didn't really want to listen much."

"No," he said thoughtfully, wiping his face a bit, "I suppose I never do."

"Not really," she replied, laughing again. "Besides, I couldn't bring myself to say it, then. I never wanted this…for it to be _you, _of all people."

They sat in silence for a few moments and Draco eventually started caressing her hand in return. "Whatever it is I'm feeling right now, you know it won't end just because you've turned me down, right?"

"I know that's what you believe right now," she said slowly. "But eventually we'll both move on."

He looked up at her again, suddenly alert. "You do still care for me, then."

"I never denied it," she said, looking away. She hugged his robe around herself tightly and he felt tears prick his eyes again. She had been prepared to spend the night with him, not just because she felt guilty; not just because she wanted revenge- one last moment of glory; but because she cared for him too. He wiped at his eyes again. _No,_ he thought. _This is not the way to do things. You're both intended for other people- _his mind railed against the words as they came. _You can't be with her now; you want more from her than a one night stand…_his heart dropped in his chest. _But this is all I get, _he argued with the voice in his head. _This is all I get…_but it was no use; it was too late and he cared about her too much. He knew what he was going to do.

Draco stood up and offered Hermione his hand. "Come here," he said softly. She looked up at him questioningly, her eyes a dark, seductive brown. She placed her hand in his and he pulled her to him, holding her so, so tightly, not wanting to let go. She reached her arms up around his back and held him, feeling the tension in his body, the unwillingness to let himself cry again. He tucked her head under his chin and spoke again.

"I wish you hadn't been a muggleborn," he said aloud, his voice sounding oddly in his ears. "And I wish I could be the man you need me to be."

She shook her head against him and looked up. "And I wish we were just two normal teenagers, sometimes. But, Draco-," she stopped as he looked down at her, shaking his head.

"I know we aren't and maybe we never will be. That doesn't change how I feel for you," he said fiercely, hugging her even closer. "I don't care what you have to say about time healing all wounds. It's a lot of nonsense," he suddenly choked out, just before bringing his mouth down to hers. One last time.

Hermione thought she might die of suffocation, but if she did, it was an awfully nice way to go. When he finally pulled away, he kissed her three more times, lightly, chastely. Then he put her from him, kissed her forehead with all the self control he had left, and turned to leave.

Hermione felt her body screaming at her for letting him leave, but she knew, somehow, that there was no helping it. That it was better this way. There was so much else she needed to turn her attention to, so many other people that needed her help, but for some reason she suddenly didn't care about any of them. She, practical, insufferable, know-it-all witch Hermione Granger, was falling apart inside.

"Draco!" she gasped, starting after him. "So that's it? After all this, this…_torture_, that's it? You're just going to leave without any fucking resolution? What do we do? What do we say when we see each other in the halls? At class? Don't you- don't you _owe _me more than that?" She was blinking furiously: she would _not _be the one left behind, weeping like a broken hearted teenager. Like the broken hearted teenager she was.

He turned to look at her, his face expressionless. She searched his eyes. They were the same steely grey she was so familiar with and she felt her heart leap into her throat. He had made up his mind.

As Hermione's eyes dashed across his face, he felt strangely calm. _It has to be this way. She told you so herself. _He forced himself to think clearly when all he really wanted was to keep up the charade, the façade, and yell at her: tell her he didn't owe her anything, she owed _him. _No, that wasn't it. This was what he owed _himself. _No more wild outpourings of emotion. No more out of control arguments that ended in lovers meeting. _This is it_, he thought.He smiled at her, his sadness and confusion matching her own, he was sure. She smiled in return and then he spoke.

"Keep the robe, Granger. It looks good on you."

Hermione looked down at herself, startled. When she looked back up, Draco Malfoy was gone and she was alone in the empty classroom with nothing left to do but gather her clothes and leave. Instead, she snatched up her clothing, struggling into it desperately, before turning and running out the door after him, looking down at the robe in her hands with a scornful glance. How dare he? How _dare _he? Leaving her behind when she was the one who had been against this from the beginning- leaving her behind when it was _her _who had offered herself to him- _leaving _her!

* * *

She saw his retreating form striding confidently down the hall and she shouted his name. His stride instantly became less than confident. Faltered, in fact. 

"Malfoy! Don't think you can just walk away from me!"

"I thought that's what I was doing, Granger," he said patiently, stopping, not turning around to face her. He couldn't face her. She scared the shit out of him when she was angry like this. Besides, he didn't exactly want to look at her again, so soon after finally making up his idiotic, foolish mind. It had taken entirely too much willpower to walk away the first time.

She caught up to him and stood just a few feet behind him, aching to, well, do _something. _She had no idea what she would do, but it would be great and romantic and everything he needed to find his way. Hermione laughed at herself then, realizing how ridiculous she was being. She struggled to keep the tears back and took another step forward, then another. One. Two. She could almost reach out and touch him.

Draco could feel her getting closer and he finally spun about. "Don't touch me!" he shouted at her, not caring if the whole school heard him. He couldn't stand it if she touched him again…not again.

She drew back, hesitant. "Why?" she whispered. "Why can't I-," she started forward again and he suddenly couldn't stop himself.

Draco's hand landed square across her jaw before he even knew what he was doing and then, like that time so many nights ago, she got her wish and felt her body spin around to hit the floor with a thud. She pulled herself up a bit, bent over, her small hands cradling her cheek, working her jaw slowly, her mouth open in a small _o_ as tears stung her eyes. Hermione found that she couldn't talk, she was so stunned.

He stepped back, afraid of what he'd done. He couldn't comfort her now. He could never comfort her, because unless she could love him she would never trust him. Draco found himself laughing bitterly as he looked down at her. She looked up at him with accusing eyes and he smirked.

"Granger," he drawled, "it's for your own good. If you can't be with me because I won't change for you, and you don't _want _me to change for you, then don't come running after me. Don't pretend like you want what's best for me and then try to force things by insisting we can 'find a way!'"

She straightened up and slowly stood, looking him square in the face. He could see a bruise forming already, but refused to let himself feel badly about it. If she was going to stand there and say things like they could never be together until the war was over, then he would live up to his heritage. It was what he believed, after all. _It's not_, the voice tried to say, but he drowned it out with a wave of angry laughter.

So that was it. So that was how he felt. He didn't want pity, or her help, or her romantic notions. He wanted something she could not give him and since he couldn't have it, he wanted no part of her. She eyed him steadily, her senses returning to her- her impracticable patience resuming its place upon her face; her eyes glaring at him with superiority she obviously didn't feel. Of course this was foolish; of course she shouldn't be with him now or ever; of course she loved Harry. Of course Harry loved her.

Whatever internal struggle she had gone through only minutes before with Draco, naked in his arms, was replaced with sensible intelligence. It was as if a steel door came down over her heart and he felt locked out suddenly; unable to ever access her feelings again. Unable to ever know her the way he almost had…moments ago…he was so unaware of himself, so focused on her in those defining seconds that he never even felt his own heart shatter.

She flung the robe she had been carrying at his feet. The robe she had worn, which he had just given her.

"I told you, you can have it," he drawled. He wasn't even surprised at the lack of emotion in his voice. It was as if he'd never held her close to him, or inhaled her scent, or _loved _her. But that was what Malfoys were best at, right? Compartmentalizing? She had said so- that meant it must be true. The bitch knew fucking everything, didn't she?

"No, thanks," she replied stiffly. Her eyes, though unreadable to him now, still held the threat of tears- whether from anger or sorrow, he did not know. Her voice trembled with a distraught, uncertain dignity. "I don't want it."

He stared down at the pile and then slowly bent down and picked it up. The minute his fingers touched the fabric, it was as if a lock had been released. He struggled a moment against the onslaught of anger and betrayal before looking up at her again. Merlin, that was a mistake, meeting her eyes one last time. She'd been saving her final words for his face and they bit deeply into him. He was sure they'd leave a lasting mark, if he let them.

"I don't want any _reminders_," she qualified, as casually as he'd just sounded seconds before, but the final word held venom.

She was always so good at that- at saying everything with just one word.

_I don't want any reminders of **you**. _

Then, satisfied her arrow had found its mark, she turned on her heel and stalked back down the hallway: her footsteps unfaltering, her head held high. He was almost happy to see her walk away so confidently. It meant that maybe he wasn't the one making a horrible mistake in letting her go. _It meant he wasn't making a horrible mistake. _

He looked down at his hand, the robe balled tightly in his fist; the only thing left of a relationship he could never, ever have. With one backward glance he turned around and walked in the opposite direction.

_So,_ he smirked to himself.

That was it.

* * *

**Author's Note: Have hope and don't crucify me. The title of the sequel is_ Forgotten Things _and the first couple of chapters are now up. **


	29. Chapter 29: Epilogue, Fin

**Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise; all characters and ideas belong to J.K. Rowling.**

**To _mofo_: Yes, it was a lot to take in. With any luck, the sequel will be just as...robust. Thanks for all your patience and support. **

**In fact, thanks to everyone. I've sincerely enjoyed writing this- not just for myself, but for you all as well. **

**With much appreciation and respect, **

**the authoress**

* * *

As Draco stumbled awkwardly down the corridor on the train, he thought of the encounter he'd just had with Pansy. It was funny, almost, how the holidays helped put things in perspective. He'd had a fantastic row with his father over his semester grades; he'd received some lovely presents from his family; he'd even spent some time with Pansy. He flushed lightly, remembering their encounter under the mistletoe in her family's parlor. She'd pouted her lips and looked so damned _appealing_. He hadn't been able to refuse her anything in that moment. The thought that he and Pansy were back together after so many months of mooning over the Granger girl shocked him a little. If he'd allowed himself to be shocked, that is. After all, Pansy, well- she really wasn't so bad…a light disturbance to his right gave him pause. He peered in the compartment's window and saw Potter and the Weasel. His heart gave a slight lurch which he brutally beat back down. No mudblood. That was interesting. He wondered where she was. 

A voice from behind him made him start guiltily.

"Skulking about as usual, Malfoy?"

The light voice shivered its way into his ears and he turned about quickly, catching the brunette unawares. She leapt back from him even as he advanced on her in the narrow space of the corridor. The train gave a great heave and he fell against her, _most_ inconveniently. She tried to shove him away.

"Not again, Malfoy!" she hissed. "Get off, you boorish man!"

"Here? In the middle of the walkway? My, my, Granger, you are a little trollop, aren't you?"

She glared up at him and rolled her eyes. Suddenly, the door to the compartment behind him slid open.

"Malfoy? What are you-?" The voice stopped. Draco stifled a groan. Potter. Always Potter!

He felt hands grab at his robe and swing him around.

"Harry!" Hermione gasped out. Draco grinned evilly at Potter's grim face. Really, she needn't have worried.

"You and she," Harry growled, "are through. If I ever catch you so much as making eyes at my girl again-!" He let the remainder of the threat hang empty in the air and let the other boy go.

Draco dusted himself off and looked back over to Hermione. She was watching the two boys nervously.

"Well, well, _mudblood_," Draco smirked. "It's nice to see you've moved on, as promised." He bared his teeth at her and she shrunk away, behind a confused Harry. He laughed.

"Don't worry, Granger. So have I." With that, he spun about and started back down the corridor. Back to Pansy. Back to his responsibilities. Yet, even as he walked away, he could feel a pair of bright hazel eyes boring into his back, watching him leave- watching _him_. And his heart lurched once more.

* * *

**Love is never lost. If not reciprocated, it will flow back and soften and purify the heart.  
-Washington Irving**

* * *

**Author's Note: I noticed a ridiculous number of people had hit the epilogue more than the previous three chapters, so I decided to post the name of the sequel here as well: Forgotten Things. And if you all are checking out this page to see if Draco and Hermione get together, well, they don't. I'm not really sorry about it, either. :)**


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